C 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SAMUEL    LOW. 


Fancy's  lovely,  fascinating  child, 

Sweet  Poesy,  through  all  her  flowery  walks, 
Led  thee  enamour'd. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 


NEW-YORK: 

Prmted  by  T.  &  J.  SWORDS,  No.  99  Pearl-Street. 

~1 80O. 


P  R  E  F  A  CiE. 


PS 


7  l'' 

IT  was  the  original  intention  of  the  Author  of  the  fol 

lowing  Poems  to  comprise,  in  one  volume,  such  of  them. 
as  he  deemed  the  best;  in  which  case  he  would  have 
given  them  to  the  public  without  any  prefatory  remarks; 
but  the  partiality  of  his  literary  friends  having  induced 
him  to  publish,  in  two  volumes,  nearly  the  whole  of  his 
poetic  writings,  some  of  them  may,  perhaps,  require  an 
apology. 

Very  few  of  the  Poems  were  written  with  a  view  to 
publication  :  several  were  composed  within  the  last  eight 
months;  previous  to  which  period,  though  frequently 
solicited  by  his  friends,  the  Author  did  riot  contemplate 
printing  them, 

Many  of  the  pieces  were  written  at  a  very  early  age, 
and  most  of  them  under  singular  disadvantages;  among 
which,  application  to  public  business,  for  many  years 
past,  was  not  the  least;  not  only  because  it  allowed  little 
leisure  for  literary  pursuits,  but  because,  it  is  of  a  nature 
peculiarly  inimical  to  the  cultivation  of  poetic  talent. 
For  his  own  amusement  and  improvement  he  has  writ 
ten  —  at  the  request  of  his  friends  he  publishes, 

May  i,  iSoo. 


CONTENTS 

OF   THE 

FIRST 


Page. 

ODE  on  the  Death  of  General  George  Washington    ...  9 

Camira  and  Angelica 16 

Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Dr.  Joseph  Youle 36 

Elegy  sacred  to  the  Memory  of  deceased  Friends       ....  42 

Epitaph  on  John  F.  Roorbach,  Esq 50 

Epitaph  on  a  Friend 51 

Another 52 

Verses  on  the  Death  of  Mr.  John  Loudon 53 

Inscription1  for  the  North-River  Bath 55 

The  Lover's  Complaint 57 

Sonnet  to  an  Infant 63 

Absence ,  64 

Ode  to  Charity 65 

Ode  for  St.  John's  Day,  June  24,  1790 67 

Anthem  for  St.  John's  Day,  June  24,  1793 69 

Masonic  Hymn 72 

To  Kotzebue 74 

On  Milton's  Paradise  Lost 84 

Hymn  for  Christmas-Day 88 

Hymn  to  Liberty     .    .    .   - 90 

Song 93 

The  Constitution 94 

Ode  on  the  Federal  Procession       98 

On  the  Arrival  of  the  late  President  of  the  United  States  .     .  104 

To  a  Friend,  on  his  Marriage 106 

To  a  Rose 109 

On  the  Instability  of  Friendship Ill 

Alphonso  and  Agnes 1 15 

On  Peace  between  America  and  Great-Britain 123 

Ode  to  Health .137 


POEMS. 

" 

ODE 

• 

Ott   THE    DEATH  OF 

GENERAL  GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 


Recited  by  Mr.  HODGKINSON,  in  the  New-York  Theatre^ 
on  the  8th  of  January,  1800. 


jCROM  dread  JEHOVAH'S  everlasting  throne, 

Celestial  Wisdom  on  my  numbers  beam; 

With  thy  inspiring  gifts  come  down, 

And  let  thy  sacred  light  my  off -'ring  crown, 

For  vast,  sublime,  and  arduous  is  my  theme. 

Erewhile  I  woo'd  fictitious  aid, 

And  on  young  Fancy's  pinions  soar'cl  j 

Or  with  the  tuneful  sisters  stray'd, 

And  all  their  flow'ry  paths  explor'd; — 

But  now  I  hail  bright  Truth,  whose  vivid  ray 

Illumines  man's  benighted  way ; 


io  -LOW'S  POEMS. 

/ 

Oh  !  from  thine  altar  let  the  fire 

My  elegiac  verse  inspire ; 

But  ah!  can  even  Truth  or  Wisdom  tell 

What  speechless  feelings  ev'ry  bosom  swell, 

How  mighty  is  the  loss  we  all  endure; — 

Our  WASHINGTON,  in  glory  grown  mature> 

Columbia?*  father,  patriot,  sage, 

The  pride,  the  glory  of  the  age, 

Now  sleeps  in  dust; — our  eyes  no  more 

Shall  view  the  matchless  hero  we  deplore ! 

Ah!  stranger,  why  that  mute,  astonish'd  gaze, 

On  these  sad  signs  a  mourning  land  displays? 

Dost  thou  not  see  how  sackcloth  shrouds 

Columbia's  grief-devoted  race? 

What  tears  bedew  each  manly  face? 

How  chill  December's  blackest  clouds 

Obscure  the  wide  cerulean  space? 

How  Beauty's  eye  grows  dim,  and  all  our  fair 

The  sad  habiliments  of  Sorrow  wear  ? 

How  Clamour  and  Dissention  are  compos'd? 

How  Pleasure's  thousand  avenues  are  clos'd? 

How  mortals  all  their  busy  cares  suspend? — 

They  mourn,  alas !  their  sire,  their  chief,  their  friend. 


LOW's  POEMS. 

Ah !  who  could  call  this  burst  of  sorrow  forth. 

This  tribute  due  to  unexampled  worth, 

But  WASHINGTON!  that  great,  exalted  name, 

Which  made  proud  nobles  sicken  at  his  fame, 

And  monarchs  inly  pine  at  regal  birth? 

But  vain  is  mortal  eulogy, — these  lays 

In  vain  attempt  to  tell  his  matchless  praise: 

Our  grief  exceeds  this  awful  pomp  of  woe, — 

His  merit  beggars  all  external  show. 

Yes, — a  bereaved  -world  will  soon  deplore, 

That  now  the  world's  best  friend  exists  no  more ! 

And  lo!   where  all  Death's  dread  insignia  come:— 

How  melancholy  sounds  the  shrouded  drum ! 

A  oum'rous  train,  to  whom  his  name  is  dear. 

Attend  his  honor'd  dust,  in  sable  clad, 

With  downcast,  humid  eyes,  and  bosoms  sad, 

And  follow  slow  the  consecrated  bier; 

The  mute  procession,  wrap'd  in  death-like  gloom, 

With  solemn  obsequies  approach  his  tomb; 

The  warrior's  breast  with  big-emotion  heaves, 

When  the  black  pall  the  dismal  coffin  leaves, 

And  the  drear  sepulchre  its  precious  charge  receives; 


iz  LOW'S 

And  all  the  martial  band,  with  tearful  eyes, 
See  where  their  dear,  illustrious  chieftain  lies; 
His  hallow'd  urn  unfading  laurels  grace, 
And  warlike  trophies  flourish  round  its  base! 
The  solemn  dirge,  with,  sadly-tuneful  notes, 
Sublimely  slow,  on  Air's  still  bosom  floats; 
Funereal  peals  our  WASHINGTON  deplore, 
And  cannon  sound  his  fame  from  shore  to  shore. 

Ah !  well  may  freemen  his  decease  lament, 

Whom  gracious  Heav'n  to  their  deliv'rance  sent. 

When  mad  Ambition  forg'd  the  galling  chains 

Which  Freedom  loathes  and  man  disdains; 

When  Cruelty,  fell  murd'rer,  stood, 

Thirsting,  panting  for  our  blood, 

And  carnage  strew'd  th'  ensanguin'd  plains; 

When  curst  O/ifiression,  with  gigantic  stride, 

Spread  desolation  far  and  wide; 

When  harvests  perish'd,  cities  blaz'd, 

And  lawless  Power  advanc'd  with  arm  uprais'd, 

To  crush  the  hallow'd  fane  which  Freedom  rear'd, 

Our  shield,  our  strength,  our  last  resource, 

The  mighty  WASHINGTON  appear'd, 

And  turu'd  aside  its  vengeful  force; 


LOW's  POEMS,  -  %. 

When  Perseverance  shrunk  aghast, 

And  //jiff's  bright  rays  were  overcast; 

When,  paraliz'd  and  weak,  our  little  band 

Of  suff' ring  heroes  inourn'd,  that  soon  their  land 

Would  groan  beneath  a  foreign  yoke, 

Their  gallant  leader,  in  that  trying  hour, 

Exerted  more  than  mortal  power: 

He  rous'd  Columbia's  energies  once  more; — \ 

Columbia  from  her  lethargy  awoke : 

Himself  a  host,  the  champion  rose, 

He  hurl'd  War's  thunder  on  our  foes; 

TV  embattled  foe,  astonish'd,  fled; — 

Immortal  laurels  grac'd  the  victor's  head! 

Glad  lo  paeans  then  his  triumphs  sung; 

But  now  our  harps  are  on  the  willows  hung, 

Or  only  to  the  strains  of  sorrow  strung: — 

Ah !  let  the  brave  their  heavy  loss  deplore, — 

Their  valiant  chief  shall  never  conquer  more ! 

^ 

The  struggle  o'er,  a  statesman  view  him  next: — 
W'hen  jarring  views  Columbia's  councils  vex'd, 
And  weak  disunion  all  her  plans  perplex'd; 
The  vet'ran  sage  presided  o'er  the  band, 
Who  gave  the  fed'ral  compact  to  our  landj 
•     SB 


14  LOW'S  POEMS. 

And  when  recall'd  from  Yemen's  peaceful  shade, 
The  matchless  man  his  country's  call  obey'd ! 
With  ready  zeal  the  sacrifice  he  made. 
Unmov'd  by  foreign  menaces  or  smiles, 
Unaw'd  by  Faction's  clamours,  threats,  or  wiles; 
With  God-like  port  our  Cincinnatus  stood: 
Awful  in  virtue,  firm  in  rectitude, 
He  still  magnanimously  sought  our  good : 
Our  guardian  chief,  with  unabated  zeal, 
Still  greatly  labour'd  for  the  public  weal: 
In  council  sage,  and  skill'd  to  rule,  he  well 
Could  ward  the  threat'ned  evil,  or  repel; 
While  he  prepar'd  for  war,  establish'd  peace, 
And  caus'd  misrule  and  anarchy  to  cease : 
He  guided  well  the  complex  wheels  of  state, 
And  bore  a  nation's  cares,  a  pond'rous  weight ! 
Ah !  let  the  great,  the  good,  the  wise  deplore 
Departed  worth  which  ne'er  shall  bless  us  more ! 

Thus  shines  the  SUN,  when  first  his  morning  ray   , 
Sheds  on  our  world  a  radiant  flood  of  day; 
Thus  from  the  zenith  pours  his  fervid  light; 
And  thus  he  leaves  a  world  involv'd  in  night ! 


LOW'S  POEMS.  1$ 

Insatiate  Death !  thy  triumph  now  is  vain ; — 
What  though  thy  dart  a  WASHINGTON  hath  slain, 
Yet  boast,  fell  tyrant!  of  thy  prize  no  more; 
For  lo!  where  seraphs  with  thy  conquest  soar; 
On  wings  of  love  they  bear  him  up  sublime, 
Far,  far  beyond  the  scenes  of  sense  and  time ! 
Heav'n's  everlasting  portals  open  wide! 
Celestial  glories  pour  their  dazzling  tide ! 
The  heav'nly  minstrels  loud  hosannas  sing, 
And  his  pure  spirit  to  its  Maker  bring; 
In  GOD'S  effulgent  presence,  lo  !  he  bows; — 
A  crown  of  well-earn'd  glory  decks  his  brows ! 

Sov'reign  of  worlds !  whose  uncontroul'd  behest, 
Or  nations  punishes,  or  makes  them  blest; 
Oh!  let  Columbia  still  thy  goodness  share, 
And  make  some  future  WASHINGTON  thy  care; 
Or,  if  his  like  must  never  bless  our  earth, 
Teach  us  at  least  to  emulate  his  worth! 


CAMIRA  AND  ANGELICA. 


The  Reader  will  find  the  interesting  Story  which  is  the  subject 
of  the  following  Stanzas  among  M.  FLORIAN'S  Tales. 


"  X1  LOW  on  my  tears,  and  swell  the  flood 
"  Which  prov'd  a  mother's  grave; 
"  My  streaming  eyes,  let  tears  of  blood 
"  My  sire's  cold  body  lave : 

/ 

"  That  mother's  love,  alas !  no  more 
"  CAMIRA'S  heart  shall  cheer; 
"  And,  my  dear  sire,  his  sufferings  o^er, 
"  A  breathless  corse  lies  here. 

"  Ah,  wretched,  lost  CAMIRA!  why 
"  The  plaint  and  bitter  tear? 
"  To  end  thy  sorrows  is — to  die; — 
"  Oblivion's  draught  is  near!" 


LOW's  POEMS.  17 

Thus  sob'd  a  hapless  Indian  swain, 
O'erwhelm'd  with  filial  grief; 
P'rom  agonizing  mental  pain 
He  sought,  in  death,  relief: 

He  ran  to  meet  the  fatal  flood, 
Which  prov'd  his  mother's  grave; 
But  near  at  hand  a  stranger  stood, 
The  desp'rate  youth  to  save. 

"  Hold,  frantic  boy!"  the  stranger  cry'd,— • 
"  'The  impious  deed  forbear," 
C  AMIR  A  ttyn'd  his  head  aside; 
An  aged  Priest  stood  there.    ' 

(Across  the  rough  Atlantic  wave 
The  rev'rend  father  came, 
The  Indian  tribes  to  teach  and  save, — 
LORENZO  was  his  name. 

By  science  was  his  mind  inform'd; 
His  heart  was  blest  by  grace; 
Benevolence  his  bosom  wann'd, 
And  mantled  in  his  face : 


LOW's  POEMS. 

He  lov'd  the  broken  heart  to  bind, 
The  vicious  to  reclaim; 
He  glow'd  with  love  of  human  kind,— 
Their  good  was  all  his  aim : 

His  heart  was  tender  and  sincere,. 
He  knew  no  vice  or  guile; 
For  ev'ry  wretch  he  had  a  tear, 
For  ev'ry  friend  a  smile: 

He  sought,  by  mildness,  to  allure 
The  harmless  Indian  race; — 
His  holy  life,  his  precepts  pure, 
Made  many^truth  embrace.) 

The  meek  and  venerable  sage 
Congenial  anguish  feels; 
And  longs  those  sorrows  to  assuage, 
Which  now  the  youth  reveals: 

He  strove  to  tell  the  piteous  tale, 
Which  did  his  utt'rance  choke  ; 
And  good  LORENZO'S  face  turn'd  pale, 
While  thus  C  A  MIR  A  spoke: 


LOW'S  POEMS.  19 

"  Yon  forest  and  this  lovely  plain 
"  My  fathers  once  enjoy'd  ; 
"  But  cruel,  avaricious  Spain, 
"  Their  peaceful  state  annoy'd. 

,•-**•* ^^••^•—^ 

"  The  fierce  exterminating  crew 
"  Set  all  our  huts  on  flame ; — 
*'  To  yonder  distant  mountains  flew 
'*  The  race  from  whom  I  came. 

"  Not  long  that  refuge  they  enjoy'd: 
*'  Soon  Brasil's  hostile  bands 
"  My  woe-devoted  race  destroy'd, 
*'  Or  banish'd  from  their  lands. 

"  My  parents  were  compell'd  to  run, 
"  With  me,  thro'  deserts  wild  ; 
"  I  was  their  lov'd,  their  only  son, 
''  I  was  their  only  child. 

"  Since  first  I  breath'd  the  vital  air, 
w  They  liv'd  in  me  alone ; 
"  Sure,  never  was  parental  care 
»  So  sweetly,  fondly  shown ! 


20  LOW's  POEMS. 

i 
"  When  I  rejoic'd  they  knew  no  woes; 

"  When  I  was  ill  they  wept ; 
"  And  only  could  enjoy  repose 
*'  When  their  C  A  MIR  A  slept. 

"  For  me  the  husband  and  the  wife 
*'  Bore  sufferings,  toils  and  death ; 
' *'  Ah,  worfis  me  !  to  save  my  life, 
"  They  both  resign'd  their  breath ! 

/ 

"  To  stem  the  fatal  current,  we 
"  Our  paddles  ply'd  in  vain, 
"  Till,  floating  down  the  stream,  a  tree 
"  Swift  split  our  barque  in  twain. 

"  Ah,  my  lov'd  father!  ne'er  shall  I 

"  Forget  that  dreadful  hour, 

"  When,  struggling,  sinking,  thou  didst  cry, 

**  *  I  faint,  I  lose  my  power !' 

i 
"  My  mother  then  her  arms  withdrew, 

"  Which  clung  around  my  sire, 

"  And  cry'd,  *  Oh,  save  my  son — and  you 

*'  Shall  see  me  blest  expire !' 


LOW's  POEMS. 

"  These  eyes  beheld  the  billows  close 
"  Upon  a  mother's  head; 
"  No  more  my  Gu  AC  OLD  A  rose;— 
"  She  sleeps  among  the  dead ! 


"  ALCAIPA  then,  with  all  his  strength, 

"  To  save  CAMIRA  try'd; 

"  And  reach'd  the  neighb'ring  shore  at  length,- 

*•'  He  reach'd  the  shore  and — died ! 

"  Oh !  could  this  warm  embrace  restore 
"  My  sire  to  life  and  me! 
{<  Or  I  had  sunk,  to  rise  no  more, 
"  Lov'd  mother,  sunk  with  thee!" 

Tears  down  LORENZO'S  visage  fall, 
And  with  CAMIRA'S  blend; 
His  hands  entomb  CAMIRA'S  all. 
His  best,  his  only  friend. 

\ 

He  bade  the  mourning  orphan  come, 
Another  sire  to  prove; 
He  took  bereav'd  CAMIRA  home, 
And  gave  hiro  all  his  love; 


LOW's  POEMS. 

And  rear'd  the  youth  with  fost'ring  care, 
And  lov'd  to  call  him  son; 
For  him  the  frequent  pious  prayer 
Approach'd  the  heav'nly  throne; 

With  Consolation's  healing  balm 
He  lull'd  his  grief  to  rest; 
Bade  Peace  his  troubled  spirit  calm, 
And  Hope  illume  his  breast: 

He  sooth'd  his  sorrows,  dry'd  the  tears 
Which  filial  love  made  flow ; — 
LORENZO'S  love,  and  riper  years, 
At  length  assuag'd  his  woe : 

Him  Virtue's  charms  the  father  taught ; — 
To  him  he  did  impart 
The  lore  with  which  his  head  was  fraught^ 
And  virtues  of  his,  heart. 

And  oft  C  A  MIR.  A  bless'd  the  turf 
Where  poor  ALGAIPA  laid; 
And  oft  his  fancy,  in  the  surf, 
Saw  GUACOLDA'S  shade! 


LOW's  POEMS.  03 

One  day,  as  there  he  paid  the  tear 
Which  Virtue  loves  to  shed, 
A.  piercing  shriek  assail'd  his  ear, 
And  struck  his  soul  with  dread. 

He  turn'd, — and  lo!  a  female  fled; — 
A  serpent  swift  pursu'd; 
The  youth  first  smote  the  monster  dead, 
And  then  the  virgin  view'd. 

Her  strength  had  fail'd — now  lifeless,  dumb) 
She  fill'd  CAMIRA'S  arms, 
Who  gaz'd,  as  he  sustained  her  home, 
And.wonder'd  at  her  charms. 

ANGELICA  was  young,  and  fair, 
And  beautiful,  and  good ; 
And  from  FED  RE  R  AS,  viceroy  there. 
The  maid  deriv'd  her  blood: 

Her  gratitude  the  fair  one  show'd; — 
Whene'er  C  A  MIR  A  came 
Her  lovely  cheeks  with  blushes  glovv'd, 
That  spoke  a  warmer  flame ; 


24  LOW'S  POEMS. 

Nor  less  the  young  CAMIRA'S  heart 
The  virtuous  passion  own'd; 
Where  late  he  felt  Affliction's  dart, 
There  Love  now  sat  cnthron'd. 

To  sage  LOSENZO  he  reveals 
ANGELICA'S  dear  namej 
And,  while  he  utters  what  he  feels, 
His  cheeks  are  all  on  flame : 

Not  so  the  priest, — the  healthful  bloom 
Forsakes  his  furrow'd  cheeks; 
His  brow  is  overspread  with  gloom; 
He  trembles  while  he  speaks : 

\ 

"Alas!  my  son,"  the  father  cry 'd, 
"  I  grieve  to  hear  thy  tale; 
"  O'er  stern  PEDRERAS'  pow'r  and  pride 
"  Thou  never  wilt  prevail: 

"  Then  quench,  my  son,  this  dang'rous  fire, 
"  Before  it  be  too  late ; 
"  Should  wrath  PEDRERAS'  breast  inspire 
*'  I  tremble  for  thy  fate ; 


LOW'S  POEMS. 

"  Mean  Av'rice  all  his  adions  sways,— 
"  Thou  hast  no  gold,  my  son ; 
"  To  gold  alone  his  court  he  pays, 
"  And  I,  alas!  have  none." 

\ 
"  Gold!  yes,  the  miser  shall  have  gold," 

CAMIRA  quick  reply'd; 

"  But,  must  ANGELICA  be  sold 

"  By  Avarice  and  Pride? 

"  Haste,  father,  to  PEDRERAS  say, 
"  The  dross  for  which  he  sighs, 
"  If  I  can  win  ANGELICA, 
"  Shall  soon  delight  his  eyes."" 

The  father  said  no  more,  but  strait 
To  stern  PEDRERAS  flew; — 
The  sordid  being's  joy  was  great 
When  he  the  errand  knew : 

This  offer  but  enflam'd  the  more 
His  boundless  love  of  gold; 
He  hop'd  that  for  a  mine  of  ore 
His  daughter  might  be  sold. 


e*  LOW'S  POEMS. 

"  Let  him  explore  for  me  a  mine," 
v       The  crafty  viceroy  said, 

"  And  this  adopted  son  of  thine 
"  Shall  then  obtain  the  maid." 

LORENZO  to  his  son  return'd, 
To  tell  the  luckless  news; — 
C  A  MIR  A  the  condition  spurn'd, 
And  nobly  did  refuse. 

"  These  terms  which  Av'rice  does  propose," 

The  sad  C  A  MIR  A  cry'd, 

"  When  I  accept,  may  all  the  woes 

"  Of  guilt  my  life  betide ! 

"  If  perfidy,  as  well  as  gold, 
"  ANGELICA  must  buy, 
"  She  never  can  to  me  be  sold," 
He  said — and  heav'd  a  sigh. 

"  For  if  I  should  the  paths  disclose 
"  Which  lead  the  golden  way, 
<{  My  people,  to  their  murd'rous  foes, 
<w  Were  then  an  easy  prey ; 


LOW'S  POEMS,  37 

<{  Forbid  it  Heav'n !  that  I  should  prove 
"  So  treacherous  and  base, 
"  To  sacrifice,  for  her  I  love, 
"  My  kindred  Indian  race: 

"  To  Virtue's  voice,  to  Honor's  tie, 

*'  Should  I  prove  thus  untrue, 

"  With  what  a  traitor's  face  should  I, 

"  My  father,  look  on  you ! 
j 

"  Our  int'rests  change  with  time  and  place, 

"  And  oft  we  miss  them  too; 

"  With  age  our  passions  die  apace,  • 

"  Nor  can  we  life  renew; 

A 

"  But  Virtue,  spite  of  place,  or  time, 
"  Or  accident,  or  pain, 
"  Can  o'er  misfortune  rise  sublime, 
"  And  well  our  souls  sustain." 

JHe  said, — and,  from  that  trying  hour, 
With  books  his  time  employ'd; 
And  strove  to  triumph  o'er  the  power 
Which  had  his  peace  destroy'd; 


LOW's  POEMS. 

He  strove,  by  Virtue's  aid,  to  tower 
O'er  Love,  that  sway'd  his  mind; 
But  strove  in  vain — Love's  mighty  power 
Did  still  C  A  MIR  A  bind. 

He  shuns  ANGELICA;  but  still 
Her  image  haunts  his  rest; 
Her  love,  her  charms,  her  merits  fill 
His  agitated  breast: 

\ 

For  wonted  peace  of  mind  he  sighs; — 

Assail'd  by  black  Despair, 

To  Indian  haunts  at  last  he  flies, 

To  gather  riches  there. 

PEDRERAS'  thirst  of  gold  to  sate, 
The  faithful  lover  fled;— 
The  priest  deplor'd  CAMIRA'S  fate; 
He  thought  his  son  was  dead : 

But,  ah!  what  language  can  pourtray 
ANGELICA'S  distress! 
For  much  she  mourn'd  her  lover's  stay, 
Nor  was  her  wonder  kss» 


LOW's  POEMS.  29 

No  friend  had  she  to  soothe  her  grief, 
Or  make  her  wonder  less ; 
None  gave  the  love-lorn  maid  relief, 
For  none  her  grief  could  guess, 

Her  virgin  modesty  forbore 

Her  sorrow  to  impart; 

The  more  she  sought  to  hide,  the  more 

Grief  prey'd  upon  her  heart; 

It  blights  the  roses  on  her  cheeks, 
Her  radiant  eyes  obscures; 
And  oft  the  smother'd  sigh  bespeaks 
The  anguish  she  endures j 

For  gone  is  he  on  whom  her  heart 
With  love-sick  fondness  clings; 
Twelve  months  Affliction's  poignant  dart 
Her  constant  bosom  stings: 

Her  bosom's  friend  she  faithless  deems, 
Or  worse  than  faithless,  dead ; 
No  ray  of  comfort  on  her  beams, 
And  even  Hope  hath  fled ! 


30  LOW's  POEMS 

To  stern  FEDRERAS  she  repairs, — • 
Low  at  his  feet  she  falls, 
And  prays  to  end  her  woes  and  cares 
Within  a  convent's  walls. 

The  sordid  parent  gives  consent, 
Now  disappointed  grown ; 
Nor  knows  the  churl  with  what  intent 
The  Indian  youth  hath  flown. 

Within  a  convent's  dismal  gloom, 
A  mourning  novice  now, 
_    She  longs  to  meet  her  final  doomj 
And  take  the  fatal  vow. 

She  longs  for  Peace,  her  once  dear  guest, 
And  hopes  the  sacred  pile, 
And  nuns,  by  sweet  Religion  bless'd, 
Will  soon  her  woe  beguile. 

Meanwhile  LORENZO  wept  and  sigh'd 
For  his  adopted  son : 
He  felt,  within  his  heart,  a  void — • 
He  felt  himself  alone ; 


LOW'S  POEMS.  31 

And  oft  his  aged  form  he  bent, 
And  oft,  with  moisten'd  eye, 
He  look'd  the  way  C  A  MIR  A  went, 
And  hope  began  to  die ! 

The  ev'ning  ere  that  solemn  day 
(Her  sad  noviciate  done), 
Which  was  to  give  to  heav'n  away 
The  self-devoted  nunj 

'Twas  then  LORENZO'S  spirit  died, 
While,  sadly,  at  his  door, 
He  mus'd  on  av'rice,  pow'r  and  pride^ 
And  gave  C  A  MIR  A  o'er. 

His  eyes  beheld  the  setting  sun 

Receding  from  his  view: 

**  Oh,  that  my  race,"  he  cry'd,  "  were  run, 

"  And  I  could  set  like  you !  " 

As  on  his  fading  beams  he  casts 
His  sorrow-clouded  eyes, 
He  feels  how  soon  misfortune  blasts 
AH  bliss  beneath  the  skies ; 


32  LOW'S  POEMS. 

He  looks,  and  on  his  feeble  sight 
A  human  figure  grows; 
He  wonders  at  his  rapid  flight — 
With  hope  his  bosom  glows ! 

"  Ah,  would  it  were  my  son !"  he  cries — 
A  youth  approaches  near. 
"  It  is  thy  son,"  a  voice  replies — 
"Behold  C  A  MIR  A  here!" 

JTis  he  himself! — LORENZO  holds 
C  AMIR  A  to  his  breast! 
And  soon  the  youth  a  tale  unfolds 
That  makes  LORENZO  bless'd. 

In  transport  cries  the  faithful  swain, 
«'  Oh,  happiness  divine ! 
"  If  wealth  can  now  that  bliss  obtain, 
V  "  ANGELICA  is  mine! 

<£  Twelve  mules  can  scarcely  bear  the  ore 
"  For  which  PEDRERAS  sighs; 
<{  This  treasure  at  his  feet  I'll 
"  To  gain  a  richer  prize  I 


LOW's  P&EMS.  33 

*  But,  ah !  my  friend,  I  read  thy  thought* 
"  And  well  thy  doubts  perceive; 

"  Then  know  that  I  have  praftis'd  nought 

gt- 
"  Which  can  thy  virtue  grieve: 

"  I  have  employ 'd  no  guilty  wiles, 
"  No  countrymen  betrayed, 
"  While  I  amass'd  the  glitt'ring  spoils, 
"  To  win  my  charming  maid. 

"  Among  my  Indian  friends  I  found, 
"  And  dug  the  valu'd  ore, 
"  And  deeply  in  far  distant  ground 
"  I  lodg'd  -the  shining  store. 

"  By  Indian  aid,  the  Christian's  good 
"  From  native  depths  I  drew ; 
"  And  merited,  unstain'd  by  blood, 
"  ANGELICA  and  you. 

i 

"  An  hundred  journeys,  full  of  toil, 
"  I  bore  for  her  dear  sake ; — 
"  To  gain  my  Christian  charmer's  smile, 
"  I  would  a  thousand  take ! 
p 


LOW's  POEMS. 

"  Where  mountains  rear  their  towering  heads 

"  On  CHILI'S  barren  coast, 

"  A  mass  of  golden  treasure  spreads^ 

"  Which  might  enrich  a  host ;. 

"  There  shall  the  viceroy  think  he  sees- 
"  The  mine  which  he  requires, 
"  And  there  behold  enough  to  please 
"  His  covetous  desires." 

To  old  PBDRERAS  they  relate 
The  unexpected  news; — 
He  hastens  to  avert  the  fate 
Which  threats  the  fair  recluse. 

Forth  from  the  convent's  gloom  he  leads 
The  willing,  wond'ring  maid: 
Now  rapture  to  despair  succeeds, 
And  sunshine  scatters  shade! 

The  cloister's  coarse  and  dismal  weeds 
To  bridal  robes  give  place;1 
With  fluttering  bosom  she  proceedsj 
And  timid,  modest  grace. 


LOW's  POEMS.  35 

But,  ah!  what  eloquence  can  paint 
The  bliss  each  lover  feels, 
When  close  he  clasps  the  recent  saint, 
And  she  her  love  reveals? 

"  Ecstatic  bliss!"  C  A  MIR  A  cries, 
"  W-hich  richly  overpays, 
"  For  all  my  nights  of  tears  and  sighs, 
*'  And  mournful,  toilsome  days." 

LORENZO  saw, — and  bless'd  the  day 
He  made  the  youth  his  son ; — 
He  bless'd,  and  made  ANGELICA 
And  his  CAMIRA  one! 


(     36     ) 

ELEGY 

ON  T&E  PEATH  OF 

DOCTOR  JOSEPH  YOULE, 
Who  died  February  34, 


oWIFT  drives  the  chilly  snow — the  eastern  blast 
With  bowlings  terrible  afflifts  the  ear; 
The  sky  with  tenfold  gloom  is  overcast, 
And  wintry  horrors  on  each  side  appear: 

Nature,  convuls'd  with  sympathetic  throes, 
Sighs  sad  responses  to  the  Muse's  moan; 
And  the  loud  storm  expresses  as  it  blows, 
In  dismal  strains — the  Muse's  friend  is  gone ! 

Ah !  there  is  cause  for  Nature  to  complain, 
And  those  with  Nature's  warm  impressions  blest; 
For  sure,  of  all  the  fav'rites  in  her  train, 
He  felt  her  pow'r,  and  lov'd  her  image  best. 


LOW'S  POEMS.  3; 

Weep,  Sorrow's  heirs! — for  who  will  now  afford 
Such  consolation  to  the  tortur'd  mind? 
What  heart  will  vibrate,  with  such  sweet  accord, 
To  all  the  various  woes  of  human  kind? 

•* 
'Twas^thine,  benignant  Being!  to  impart 

The  wretch's  solace,  Pity's  cordial  drop; 

t 
And  oft,  with  skill  divine,  thy  healing  art 

Gave  «uff 'ring  fellow  mortals  life  and  hope ! 

Nature  thy  docile  mind  had  richly  fraught 
With  early  judgment,  genius,  taste  refin'd ; 
Thee,  NEWTON'S  lore  sublimest  truths  had  taught, 
And  HARTLEY'S  page  illum'd  thy  vig'rous  mind. 

And  art  thou  gone? — And  has  that  wond'rous  mind 
So  soon,  alas !  forsaken  its  fair  home  ? 
And  are  those  earthly  relics,  too,  consign'd 
To  a  long  night  of  darkness,  and — a  tomb? 

Not  long  had  Life's  warm  stream  been  taught  to  glide, 
Scarce  Manhood's  roseate  bloom  had  grac'd  thy  fonrij 
When  GOD,  its  maker,  laid  that  form  beside 
The  "  valley's  clods," — a  victim  to  the  worm! 


3g  LOW's  POEMS. 

Mute  is  that  sweet,  persuasive  voice,  which  seem'd 
To  give  to  Truth  a  more  attractive  charm; 
And  Death's  dun  shades  have  clos'd  those  eyes,  that  beam'd 
Smiles,  which  could  ev'ry  foe  but  Death  disarm. 

Oh!  he  was  all  that  Friendship's  pow'r  could  grant, 
All  that  his  bosom  friend  could  wish  below ! 
Now  that  fond  heart  has  ceas'd  for  friends  to  pant, 
Nor  longer  struggles' to  embrace  a  foe. 

Insatiate  Diath !  ah,  never  didst  thou  gain 
A  richer  conquest  than  is  now  thy  boast: 
Inexorable  spoiler !   what  vast  pain, 
And  grief,  and  ruin,  has  thine  empire  cost! 

Sov 'reign  of  worlds!   command  his  reign  to  ceaSe, 
Nor  let  the  tyrant  thus  thy  works  deface: 
AH !  when  shall  order,  life,  and  health,  and  peace, 
Of  his  widd-spreading  ravages  take  place? 

Art  thou  not  good,  and  merciful,  and  just?  — 
"  Rash  man  !  he  is,"— a  pow'r  unseen  replies — 
"  And  shall  a  worm,  whose  origin  is  dust, 
*'  Presume  to  teach  the  infinitely  wise? 


LOW's  POEMS.  39 

"  Shrink  into  nothing  when  you  view  a  maze 
"  Which  feeble  Reason  vainly  would  explore; 
"  Nor  dare  to  question  Heav'n's  mysterious  ways, 
"  But  hope  and  tremble,  wonder  and  adore!" 

Ev'n  so,  dread  Being!  to  thy  will  we  bend, — 
Mortality's  dark  curtain  thou  hast  drawn; 
But  thou  hast  said,  our  dear  departed  friend 
Shall  yet  behold  the  Resurrection  dawn. 

It  must  be  so — then  hence  profane  distrust; 
Let  gratulations  rather  tune  our  lay; 
Fbr,  hark!   the  trump  awakes  his  slumb'ring  dust, 
And,  lo!   he  soars  to  uncreated  day  ! 

See  him  with  NEWTON,  matchless  sage,  unite.; 
LOCKE,  HARTLEY,  hail  hiin  Science'  darling  son,— 
And  JESUS — oh!  iffeffable  delight! 
Rewards  his  humble  follower  with — "  well  done!" 

There  nobler  pow'rs  will  now  enlarge  his  mind; 
Far  other  themes  will  there  those  pow'rs  employj 
And  endless  ages  still  new  sources  find 
Of  higher  knowledge  and  increasing  joy. 


40  LOW'S  POEMS. 

Here  Faith  and  Hope  could  tempt  his  languid  sight,— 
Now  vision  satisfies  his  raptur'd  gaze; 
Here  long-sought  Truth  could  shed  a  glimm'ring  light, 
But  now  she  quite  absorbs  him  in  her  blaze! 

N^j 

There  Charity  in  full  perfection  shines; 
Her  beatific  sway  is  there  confess'd : 
No  earth-born  frailty  mars  her  pure  designs, 
For  Love  divine  irradiates  ev'ry  breast. 

Oh,  blissful  change! — then  why  that  change  deplore? 
Alas!  'tis  weak  Humanity's  complaint 
For  a  lov'd  mortal — mortal  now  no  more — 
Who  lives  for  ever  an  enraptur'd  saint! 

Yes,'  fond  remembrance  still  must  force  a  sigh, 
And  big  emotions  heave  the  manly  breast ; 
Oft  shall  the  drop  from  Virtue's  placid  eye, 
Bedew  the  hillock  where  his  ashes  rest. 

This  best  memorial  of  the  good  and  wise, 
"  Like  precious  ointment"  on  his  urn  "  pour'd  forth," 
Shall  counsel  thoughtless,  erring  youth  to  prize, 
And,  haply,  imitate  such  signal  worth. 


LOW's  POEMS.  41 

Me,  Memory,  may  thy  constant  pow'r  engage,  , 
To  tread  the  pious  track  which  he  has  trodj 
So  shall  the  lessons  of  my  youthful  sage 
Conduct  his  pupil  to  our  father— GOD! 


SACRED 


TO  THE  MEMORY 


DECEASED    FRIENDS. 


Written  in  Odober,  1798,  on  Long-Island. 


IN  Summer's  green  liv'ry  array'd 
I  late  saw  the  grove  and  the  lawn; 
Their  beauties — ah !  see  how  they  fade  j 
Their  honors — how  soon  they  are  gone ! 

Now  vapours,  portentous  and  black, 
The  azure  expanse  overcast ; 
The  birds  this  chill  region  forsakej 
The  time  of  their  singing  is  past. 


LOW'S  POEMS,  43 

'Tis  silent — of  air  not  a  breath 
The  forest's  dun  foliage  assails; 
Alas!  how  the  silence  of  death 
O'er  thousands  this  moment  prevails  1 

'Tis  silent — save  oft  when  the  leaf, 
Now  lifeless,  by  Autumn  imbrown'd, 
Like  the  subject  of  LYCIDAS'  grief, 
Falls  mournfully  rustling  around. 

Ev'n  frequent  as  Autumn's  shorn  leaves. 
The  friends  of  his  bosom  depart; 
Each  day's  dreaded  rumour  bereaves 
Of  its  comforts,  his  sorrowful  heart, 

So  stood  the  good  Patriarch  of  old, 
For  trials  and  patience  renown'd; 
Scarce  one  fatal  message  was  told. 
When,  lo !  greater  evils  surround. 

Oh,  Death !  what  a  terrible  void 
Thy  victims  have  left  in  this  breast ! 
What  sources  of  bliss  are  destroy'd ! 
What  hopes  hast  thou  render'd  unblestl 


44-  LOW's  POEMS. 

My  juvenile  hopes  were  laid  low, 
When  a  father  acknowledg'd  thy  pow'rj 
And  many  a  merciless  blow 
Hath  struck  at  my  peace  since  that  hour; 

My  conjugal  joys  thou  didst  blast; 
My  bosom's  first  love  felt  thy  dart  3 
Ev'n  her  whose  affeftions  were  fast 
Entwin'd  in  the  folds  of  my  heart. 

Oh !  choice  of  my  earliest  prime, 
The  partner  my  soul  held  most  dear; 
No  circumstance  ever  thro'  time, 
-  From  me  thy  lov'd  image  shall  tear! 

A  sister  I've  liv'd  to  lament: 
Ah!  who  can  imagine  the  woe 
A  husband  endur'd  at  the  event! 
Or  a  mother's  despair  at  the  blow ! 

Those  too  by  that  mother  belov'd, 
With  a  sister's  benignant  regard, 
Oar  country's  dread  plague  hath  remov'd 
To  the  place  of  their  endless -reward. 


LOW'S  POEMS.  45 

Thy  toil,  son  of  Neptune,  is  o'er; 
Thy  tales  of  the  Ocean's  rough  wave, 
In  accents  as  rough,  charm-no  morej 
That  Ocean,  alas !  was  thy  grave.- 

Thee  too  I  deplore,  lately  lost 
To  the  husband  whose  parents  were  minej 
A  mother's  fond  love  thou  coiildst  boast; 
The  wife's  best  affections  were  thine. 

Nor  can  the  Muse,  thankless,  withhold 
The  tribute  she  owes  her  lost  friends  j 
Ah!  no,  each  sad  tale  must  be  told, 
While  Sympathy,  over  them  bends. 

Tho'  Pride  rears,  no  column  or  bust, 
Their  green-tufted  graves  to  adorn ; 
Tho'  Flatt'ry  insults  not  their  dust, 
Like  those  who  to  titles  were  born; 

Yet  LYCIDAS  oft  shall  rehearse 
Their  eulogy  artlessly  true; 
Their  merits  shall  sanction  my  verse, 
Far  better  than  titles  could  do. 


LOW's  POEMS. 

First  thou,*  the  instructor  of  those 
Whom  nature  hath  giv'n  me  to  raise, 
A  life  of  much  value  didst  close, 
Its  value  transcends  my  weak  praise, 

My  offsprings'  sage  Mentor  is  gone; 
His  converse  was  grateful  to  me; 
For  Science  proclaim'd  him  her  son, 
And  Truth  made  him  liberal  and  free. 

My  kinsman  f  and  friend  next  demands 
A  place  in  these  sorrowful  lays; 
Few  bosoms  such  kindness  expands; 
Few  hearts  such  sincerity  sways. 

But  chief,  oh,  thou  |  friend  of  my  youthl 
I  sicken  to  publish  thy  fate; 
Just  God!  that  such  virtue  and  truth 
Were  doom'd  to  so  transient  a  date  I 


Evan  Thomas. 

John  H.  Kip, 

John  £.  Rporbach,  Es«j, 


LOW's  POEMS.  47 

Oh!  faithfullest,  tend 'rest  of  those 
Whom  Providence  kindly  had  giv'n, 
To  lessen  the  numberless  woes 
Which  thwarted  my  passage  to  Heav'n) 

Beneficent,  gentle  and  meek, 
And  courteous  wast  thou  to  thy  kind ; 
Well  skill'd  to  establish  the  weak, 
And  hearts  which  were  broken  to  bind ! 

The  orphan  and  stranger  are  left, 
Unfriended,  to  sigh  o'er  thine  urn  5 
Of  counsellor,  patron,  bereft; 
Ah !  never  again  to  return. 

'Twas  thine  to  sustain  well  thy  part 
In  all  the  relations  of  life: 
Thy  children  were  dear  to  thine  heart; 
How  precious  to  thee  was  thy  wife ! 

While  mem'ry  its  vigour  retains, 
How  oft  will  the  scene  rise  to  view. 
When  o'er  thy  beloved  remains, 
Her  sorrows  she  came  to  renew ! 


48  LOW's  POEMS. 

Weep,  beautiful  mourner  !  ah,  weep 
-    O'er  the  virtues  which  there  lie  enshrin'd! 
For  there  must  thy  happiness  sleep, 
'Till  with  him  once  more  thou  art  join'd. 


Fever  !  whose  baneful  attack 
Lays  cities  and  villages  low  ; 
My  mem'ry,  with  horror,  shrinks  back 
In  renewing  thy  labours  of  woe. 

Bid  the  angel  of  ruin  desist, 

Oh!  thou  whom  all  nature  obeys, 

Let  a  remnant  to  praise  thee  exist, 

Tho'  remembrance  must  sadden  their  praise. 

Thy  dealings  are  in  the  great  deep; 
Let  mortals  adore  and  be  still': 
The  mis'ry  which  prompts  us  to  weep, 
Is  goodness  disguis'd  under  ill. 

Oh!  teach  me  submission  and  trust, 
Let  gratitude  gladden  my  days; 
Convinc'd  that  thy  chast'nings  are  just, 
And  merciful  still  are  thy  ways. 


LOW's  POEMS. 

Thro*  ills  that  were  wont  to  betide; 
Diseases,  and  sorrows,  and  tears; 
J  own  thee  my  youth's  gracious  guide. 
And  guardian  of  life's  riper  years. 

Thy  terrible  angel  of  death, 
Innoxious  my  dwelling  past  by, 
While  thousands  surrender'd  their  breath; 
My  Maker,  how  favour'd  am  I ! 

Oh !  let  me  not,  impious,  repine, 
That  now  fewer  friends  are  my  lot; 
But  see  the  hand  equally  thine, 
Which  spar'd  my  companions  or  not! 

While  others'  chief  good  is  their  wealth, 
Oh!  grant  me  but  competence,  LORD; 
Content,  if  here  virtue  and  health, 
And  THOU  be  at  last  my  reward! 


EPITAPH 


JOHN  FREDERICK  ROORBACH,  Esq; 

Who  died  October  3,  1798,  of  the  Fever  then  prevailing  id 
New- York. 


J.  O  know  his  worth  whose  dust  reposes  here, 
Ah!  view  the  anguish  of  his  widow'd  wife, 
Who  only  lives  her  orphan  babes  to  rear, 
Like  their  dear  father,  for  immortal  life ! 

Ask  his  bereaved  friends  if  he  was  true; 
Was  he  benevolent?  consult  the  poor: 
Their  tears,  which  oft  his  lov'd  remains  bedew, 
Shall  testify  that  his  reward  is  sure. 

If  Chance  to  this  lone  spot  should  e'er  convey 
A  mind  with-sense,  an  heart  with  feeling  -blest ; 
Sweet  Sympathy  shall  consecrate  this  lay, 
By  sacred  Friendship's  trembling  hand  impress'd ! 


EPITAPH 


A  FRIEND. 


morfc  Misanthropy's  unhallow'd  breath 
Shall  blast  the  meed  of  praise  bestow'd  at  death; 
For,  Truth  declares, — this  mould 'ring  heap  of  earth 
Was  once  endow'd  with  more  than  common  worth: 
Ye  children  of  misfortune  left  behind, 
Say,  was  he  not  the  friend  of  human  kind? 
Your  tears  his  rare  beneficence  attest, 
You  mourn  him  dead,  who,  living,  made  you  blest! 


ANOTHER. 


J.  HE  mould'ring  form  within  this  tomb  confin'd, 
Once  boasted  vigour,  once  a  vig'rous  mind  > 
That  virtues,  eminent  like  his,  can  die, 
His  friends  shall  often  witness  with  a  sigh; 
And  say,  when  passing  by  this  well-known  grave, 
*  Here  rests  the  good,  the  just,  the  wise,  the  brave;' 
'Mong  fallen  men  so  few  like  him  remain, 
"  We  scarce  shall  look  upon  his  like  again." 
The  friend  of  human  kind,  his  country's  friend, 
And,  in  one  word,  his  eulogy  to  end, 
(Let  truth  say  more  of  monarchs  if  it  can) 
Here  lies  "  GOD'S  noblest  work — an  honest  man.1* 


VERSES 

ON   THE  DEATH   OP 

Mr.  JOHN  LOUDON; 
Sung  in  Lodge  on  the  night  after  his  interment. 

.flfr.  Loudon  ivas  slain  ly  the  accidental  discharge  of  a  musket  during 
a  Military  Review^ 


friend  is  gone! — this  splemn  hour 
Too  well  describes  what  we  deplore; 
Our  sorrow,  and  these  weeds  attest, 
What  virtues  warm'd  his  manly  breast. 

Our  brother's  gone! — ye  who  revere 
Masonic  worth,  ah,  drop  a  tear ! 
The  tear  of  grief — your  friend  is  slain  ! 
The  tear  of  joy — he  lives  again! 

'Twas  Love  the  fatalVeapon  aim'd; 
Mysterious  Heav'n  its  offspring  claim'd; 
From  GOD  his  gentle  soul  he  drew! 
To  GOD  his  gentle  spirit  flew ! 


54  LOW's  POEMS. 

Dear  LOUD  ON  !  much  lamented  youth! 
Ah!  teach  our  souls  this  awful  truth, — 
Soon  each  of  us  must  fall,  like  you ; 
But  shall  we  rise  triumphant  too? 

We  shall,  if  first,  like  you,  we  place 
Our  feet  on  Virtue's  steadfast  base; 
We  then  in  peace  our  eyes  shall  close, 
And  rise,  we  trust,  as  you  arose  I 


INSCRIPTION 

ton. 
:  TJYLOR's  NORTH- RIFE R 


Jtl-RE  Sol  emerges  from  the  eastern  main, 
Here  plunge — and  half  his  fervor  shall  be  vain; 
Or  when  his  orb  to  Thetis  seems  to  sink, 
No  longer  loiter  on  fair  Hudson's  brink. 
Immortal  Hudson!   fam'd  in  ev'ry  clime, 
Gentle,  tho'  vast — tho'  beautiful,  sublime; 
Prom  northern  heights  he  draws  his  crystal  tides, 
And  greets  our  shores  as  he  majestic  glides; 
Hygeia's  blooming  train  to  us  he  brings, 
And  healing  from  his  ample  bosom  springs. 
While  pigmy  rivers  flow  in  classic  strain, 
Shall  Hudson's  mighty  waters  flow  in  vain? 
Let  ancient  bards  extol  their  pools  of  mud, 
'Tis  mine  to  sing  the  clear,  translucent  flood : 
No  stream  we  need,  like  Egypt's  boasted  Nile, 
With  feculence  to  fertilize  the  soil, 
While  genial  showers  enrich  Manhattan's  islej 


56  LOW's  POEMS. 

For  rapid  Hudson,  deep,  saline  and  clear, 
Wafts  purity,  and  health,  and  beauty  here. 
Transcendent  river!  while  thy  current  flows, 
Or  the  bright  mirror  Beauty's  image  shows, 
In  thee  the  fair  shall  view  her  form,  and  lave, 
And  man  still  seek  thy  cool,  refreshing  wave; 
From  thee  the  young  new  vigour  shall  derive; 
Thy  healthful  stream  shall  feeble  age  revive; 
Thy  virtues  even  mental  aid  dispense, 
And  mankind  go  with  cheerful  spirits  hence; 
The  fair  from  thy  embrace  more  lovely  shall  retire, 
And  that  which  cools  their  own,  their  lovers'  breasts  shall 
fire! 


1799. 


(     57    ) 


LOVER's  COMPLAINT. 


Written  in  1784. 


RETURN,  Contentment,  placid  maid] 

Who  once  this  bosom  didst  pervade; 

With  cheerful  look  and  graceful  mien, 

Revisit  this  once  happy  scene; 

And  bring  thy  fair  companions  too, 
The  cherub  Peace,  and  Health  with  rosy  hue: 
But  Health,  Content,  and  all  terrestrial  bliss, 
Are  only  found  where  STREPHON'S  DEJ,IA  is. 
Then  come^  bereaved,  sympathetic  dove, 
Whose  constancy  and  innocence  I  love; 
Thou  too,  sweet  songster,  lovelorn  Philomel  \ 

In  dulcet  strains  thy  passion  tell ; 

Let  thy  mellifluous  warblings  swell, 
Till  melody  enchants  the  list'ning  grove: 


58  LOWS  POEMS. 

Come,  tuneful  bird,  and  with  me  mourn 

A  lover,  hopeless  and  forlorn ; 

And  soothingly  thy  wild  notes  join,1 
In  unison  with  these  complaints  of  mine ; 
For  much  I  love  those  plaintive  lays  of  thine. 
We  will  invoke  the  lovely  absent  fair, 
To  smile  benignant  on  our  melting  prayer; 
And  Echo  shall  reverberate  her  praise, 
Whose  beauteous  image  STREPHON'S  bosom  sways! 

Yet,  oh,  Contentment,  goddess  fair! 

Heart-cheering  presence!  heav'n-born  child! 

Lamb  like !  beautiful  and  mild ! 
I  would  again  thy  blissful  influence  share; 

Oh,  come,  "  with  healing  on  thy  wings!" 

For  grief  consumes  my  life  away, 

By  silent  night,  by  cheerful  day ; 
Nor  night,  nor  cheerful  day  enjoyment  brings: 

Where  Winter  wraps  the  northern  pole,  ( 

Or  where  Arcadian  beauty  springs, 

Alike  I  wander,  wrap'd  in  gloom ; 
Alike  to  me  revolving  seasons  roll; 
Still  anxious  fears  and  doubts  disturb  my  soul, 
While  DELIA'S  Charms  in  distant  regions  bloom. 


LOW's  POEMS. 


But  I,  alas  !  still  raise,  in 

Th'  impassion'd,  supplicating  strain, 
To  blest  Content,  and  Peace,  angelic  fair; 

For  where,  ah!  where  can  they  be  found? 
Nor  Solitude,  nor  Pleasure's  giddy  round, 
Can  dissipate  this  heart-corroding  care  : 

DELIA  is  peace  and  pure  delight,  . 
Sad  STREPHON'S  antidote  against  despair; 
She,  she  alone  can  peace  and  joy  excite, 
Ineffable  sensations  can  impart, 
And  shed  upon  his  bosom  sun-shine  bright; 
DELIA  can  cure  "  the  sickness  of  his  heart, 
"  Which  languishes  for  bliss  the  fates  defer}" 
For  his  affections  centre  all  in  her  : 
Oh,  may  he  live  to  number  happier  days, 
And  yet,  with  ecstacy,  on  her  perfections  gaze. 

Heart-sinking  Absence,  foe  to  -life! 

Thine  is  this  perpetual  strife 
Between  gay  Hope  and  merciless  Despair; 
Thou  dost  this  doating,  love-sick  bosom  tear, 
Too  oft  with  causeless,  but  severe  alarms, 
While  DELIA'S  far  from  these  protecting  arms: 
Thou  dost,  with  jealous  fires,  inflame  my  soul, 


6o  LOW's  POEMS. 

Which  harrow  all  my  powers  with  scorpion  fangsj 
Which  ev'ry  gentle  passion  can  controul, 
Inflicting  agonizing  pangs. 

Hated  Absence !  thou  hast  slain 
All  that  did  my  mind  sustain, 
And  hast  left  me  nought  but  pain, 
Ling'ring  daj.s  and  restless  nights, 
Sleep  disturb'd  by  wild  affrights:— 
In  vain  I  sigh, 
In  vain  implore 
Some  pitying  power 
To  aid  my  cry, 
Till  Hope's  expiring  rays  in  evanescence  die. 

When  vernal  days  their  genial  influence  yield, 
And  clothe  with  life  and  verdure  ev'ry  field; 
When  blythe  Aurora  from  the  orient  moves, 
And  smiling  sun-beams  paint  the  lawns  and  groves;" 
Or  Ev'ning's  shade  resumes  its  sober  reign; 
'Tis  irksome  all  to  STREPHON — wretched  swain! 

i     No  charms  for  thee  has  Spring: 
For  thee  no  more  the  feather'd  people  sing; — 
With  DELIA.  Nature's  scenery  took  wing: 


LOW's  POEMS.  «i 

No  more  do  streams  meander  thro'  the  trees;— 
DELIA  is  absent — nothing  now  can  please; 
Or  vainly  murmur,  as  they  glide 
O'er,  the  pebbles, •  which  subside; 
On  their  margins  verdure  growing, 
Vernal  zephyrs  gently  blowing; 
Beauteous  flowers  the  eye  amusing, 
And  Arabian  sweets  diffusing : 
Congenial  Nature  sighs; 
To  me  her  varied  beauties  she  denies, 
While  Nature's  DELIA  thus  prolongs  her  stay: 
Then,  oh!  no  longer  thy  return  delay, 
But  "haste,  my  love;  dear  charmer,  come  away  1'^ 

Lamented  be  that  inauspicious  day 

Which  took  my  DELIA  from  these  shores  away, 

To  distant  climes  forlorn, 
And  left  her  faithful  STREPHON  long  to  mourn 
His  choicest  treasure  from  his  bosom  torn : 
Ah,  day  unblest! — but  hold !  no  more  complain,    » 
Fond  heart,  for  joy  now  dawns  on  thee  again: 

Behold  the  fair  one  come ; 
With  love-sped  haste  she  braves  the  dang'rous  main, 

To-bless  her  native  home; 


&  LOW's  POEMS. 

I  see,  I  see  her  smiles  divine ! 
Love's  supreme  delights  are  mine! 
My  heart  o'erflows ! 
My  bosom  glows! 
Sorrow  fades! 
Joy  invades 
Th'  intoxicated  senses! 
Doubt,  and  fear,  and  grief  are  o'er, 
Again  does  Love  his  thrilling  raptures  pour, 
Again  I  clasp  the  nymph  whom  I  adore, 
And  STREPHON'S  wish'd-for  bliss  at  last  commences. 
Two  kindred  hearts  shall  now  their  loves  confess, 
And  Hymen's  sanction  our  attachment  bless; 
Soon  shall  the  fair  my  constancy  repay, 
And  cpnjugal  endearments  crown  each  dayj 
Our  mutual  vows  shall  mutual  trust  ensure, 
And  our  felicity  with  life  endure. 


SONNET 

TO  AN 

INFANT. 


MY  little  cherub,  lovely,  blooming  boy ! 

Whose  sweet  endearments  can  my  cares  beguile; 

Whose  antic  sports,  and  accents  infantile, 

From  musings  sad  can  'wake  my  soul  to  joy. 

O'er  thy  lov'd  features  plays  the  dimpling  smile, 

And  health  now  mantles  in  thy  downy  cheek; 

But  thou  art  yet  a  babe;  and  very  weak 

Are  all  thy  faculties;  dear,  fragile  germe 

Of  future  man,  that  heav'n-aspiring  worm! 

If  sickness  menace  thee,  or  aught  molest, 

Then  all  the  father  thrills  in  ev'ry  nerve; 

Then  speechless  feelings  agitate  the  breast 

Which  would  its  charmer  cherish  and  preserve, 

And  there  thy  fondness  clings,  and  there  thou  art  caress'd. 


ABSENCE. 


JXEMOTE  from  all  my  soul  holds  dear, 

How  slow  the  minutes  glide; 
Alternate  sadness,  grief  and  fear. 
Disturb  my  anxious  bosom  here, 
Where  ANNA  don't  reside. 

To  her  endearments  lost  awhile, 
Gay  Nature  hath  no  charms; 
Nor  rural  scenes,  nor  Friendship's  smile, 
PA  LEMON'S  passion  can  beguile, 

While  far  from  ANNA'S  arms. 
i 

To  yonder  cloud-encompass'd  height 

I  look  with  longing  eyes; 
How  slowly  sinks  yon  orb  of  light, 
And,  ah !  the  space  which  bars  my  sight 

From  ev'ry  thing  I  prize! 


LOW'S  POEMS.  ,          65 

Soon  may  that  power,  whose  wisdom  still 
Hath  mark'd  with  good,  as  well  as  ill, 

My  variegated  life, 
PA  LEMON  to  his  love  convey; 
Oh!  speed,  kind  heav'n,  the  blissful  day, 

When  he  may  call  her  wife ! 


ODE 

TO 

CHARITY. 


Sung  in  St.  Paul's  Church  on  the  24th  day  of  Jun«,  1789,  being 
the  Anniversary  of  the  Festival  of  St.  John  the  Baptist. 


RECITATIVE. 

1*  ROM  regions  of  immortal  bliss  above, 
Impart  thy  heav'nly  emanations,  Love! 
Soul  of  our  Order!  Patron  of  this  Day! 
Inspire  our  hearts,  and  prompt  the  .solemn  lay. 

AIR. 
Come,  Beauty  of  th'  eternal  Sire! 

Whose  justice  we  adore, 
Whose  power  and  wisdom  we  admire,— 
Thy  smiles  attract  us  morej^ 


66  •    y        LOW's  POEMS. 

Faith  may  command  the  visual  ray, 

Futurity  to  scan; 
And  Hofte,  by  Fancy  led  astray, 

May  picture  heav'n  to  man: 

But  thou,  blest  Charity!  canst  give 

Compassion's  thrill  divine; 
From  thee  we  heav'nly  joys  derive, 

For  joy  and  heav'n  are  thine! 

CHORUS. 

And  when  Faith  and  Hope  shall  fade, 

When  heav'n's  glories  are  display'd, 

When,  with  transports  vast  and  new, 

Things  ineffable  we  view; 

Then,  Religion's  source  and  aim, 

Love  shall  still  exist  the  same; 

Love  divine  shall  be  our  theme, 

Love — eternal  and  supreme ! 

This,  this  alone  our  constant  heav'n  shall  prove- 

The  GOD  of  heav'n  is  everlasting  Love! 


ODE 

FOR 

St.  JOHN'S  DAY,  Junez^  1790.' 

performed  at  the  Consecration  of  the  Building  creeled  for  the 
use  of  Holland  Lodge,  and  the  Washington  Chapter  of  Royal. 
Arch  Masons. 


RECITATIVE. 

L  HE  work  is  done — let  praise  pervade  these  courts; 
The  work  which  Wisdom  plann'd,  and  Strength  supports  j 
Now  Beauty  adds  an  all-enliv'ning  smile, 
And  joins  with  us  to  consecrate  the  pile. 
Thus  when  Creation,  at  th'  Almighty  nod, 
From  Chaos  rose,  and  own'd  its  maker,  Gop, 
The  morning  stars,  in  heav'nly  concert  play'd, 
And  angels  sung  the  wonders  he  had  made ! 

AIR. 

Thou  who  didst  launch,  thro'  boundless  spacCj 
Ten  thousand  worlds,  and  fix  their  base 
Where  Wisdom,  Power  and  Order  join, 
To  prove  the  mighty  system  thine ! 


68  LOW's  POEMS. 

Stupendous  Architect !  when  man, 
(An  atom  in  Creation's  plan) 
Attempts  to  tell  thy  wond'rous  ways, 
How  poor,  how  languid  are  his  lays! 

And  shall  he,  with  thy  deeds  compare 
His  earth-born  skill,  his  works  of  air? 
Great  Cause  of  worlds  immense,  how  vain! 
All  perfe6t  Being,  how  profane ! 

But  when,  in  all  its  charms  array'd, 
Thy  Moral  Beauty  is  display'd, 
'Tis  good  for  man  to  imitate 
Perfections  infinitely  great! 

For,  while  we  own  the  glory  thine, 
And  shout  Omnipotence  divine! 
Grace  shall  accept  the  off'ring,  paid 
By  creatures  whom  that  grace  hath  made, 


And  when,  thro'  universal  space, 
All  Labour  shall  to  Rest  give  place j 
The  vast  reward  to  virtue  due, 
Complete  fruition  shall  ensue  \ 


LOW's  POEMS.  69 

'* 

CHORUS. 

Let  glory  then  redound 

To  heav'n's  eternal  King; 

In  whom  our  Wisdom  still  is  found, 

From  whom  our  Strength  and  Beauty  spring? 


ANTHEM. 


Sung  in  Trinity  Church,  on  St.  John's  Day,   June  24,  179*1 
by  the  Episcopal  Charity  Children. 


FROM  the  seat  of  bliss  above, 
Shed  thy  genial  influence,  Love ; 
Friend  of  man — the  Mason's  friend, 
Heav'n-born  CJiarity  descend! 

Beauty  of  th'  eternal  Sire ! 

Whom,  for  thee,  we  most  admire; 

Rapture  of  th'  angelic  throng, 

Fire  our  hearts,  and  prompt  our  song! 

G 


;o  LOW'S  POEMS, 

Cold  is  selfish  man  at  best, 
When  he  succours  the  distrest; 
But,  without  thy  soft'ning  thrill 
Wretches  must  be  wretched  still. 

Servile  Fear,  the  world's  applause, 
Or  stern  Duty's  frigid  laws, 
May  th*  unwilling  hand  controul, 
But  can  never  warm  the  soul. 

How  unlike  thy  purer  flame, 
Charity!  thou  sacred  name; 
Mild  subduer  !  healing  dart! 
Jiumanizer  of  the  heart! 

FaitJt,  with  intellectual  eye, 
Things  eternal  may  descry : 
Ardent  Hofte,  by  Fancy  fir'd, 
May  conceive  the  heav'n  desir'd; 

But  when  Charity  divine, 
In  the  soul  vouchsafes  to  shine, 
Then  it  feels  for  human  woe, 
enjoys  a  heav'n  below  I 


LOW's  POEMS.  71 

#    , 
How  the  full-fraught  bosom  glows! 

From  it — what  compassion  flows ! 
Vital  spark,  oh !  strike  each  breast ; 
Flint  shall  yield,  and  man  be  blest! 

And,  when  Faith  and  Hope  shall  fade, 
When  heav'n's  glories  are  displayed, 
When,  with  transports  vast  and  new, 
Things  ineffable  we  view — 

Then  Religion's  source  and  aim, 
Love  shall  still  exist  the  same; 
Love  alone  our  heav'n  shall  prove, 
For  our  GOD  is  endless  Love! 


A  MASONIC  HYMN, 


.LET  the  wond'rous  theme  be  sung, 
How  from  Chaos  Order  sprung; 
How  the  great,  eternal  mind 
Wisdom,  Strength  and  Beauty  join'd. 

Wisdom  first  the  basis  laid, 
Strength  the  mighty  fabric  made, 
Beauty  smil'd,  and  joyous  light 
Shone  on  all  divinely  bright. 

Wisdom  from  th'  Almighty  came-— 
Wisdom  is  our  Master's  name, 
Western  Strength  supports  our  hands, 
In  the  south  our  Beauty  stands. 

See  the  Sun  majestic  rise! 
Lo^  he  gains  meridian  skies! — 
Now  his  glory  sets  in  night, 
Soon  again,  to  bless  our  sight ! 


Thus  our  brother's  mind  shall  grow, 
Knowing,  and  still  more  to  know, 
Till  illum'd,  the  mental  eye, 
Phoebus  like,  shall  mount  the  sky, 

Strike  the  bold  Masonic  lyre ! 
Feel  you  not  the  gen'rous  fire  ? — 
Sound  a  louder  note,  and  sing, 
Jiofe  shall  bear  us  on  her  wing! 

Bear  us  up  at  length  sublime, 
Far  beyond  the  bourn  of  time; 
Then  shall  each  Masonic  grace 
To  unceasing  Love  give  place. 


To  KOTZEBUE. 


To  thee,  Germania's  pride,  the  ornament, 

And  friend,  and  benefactor  of  the  world; 

The  purest,  sweetest  among  modern  bards 

Who  tread  the  -difficult  dramatic  path, 

Or  whom  Thalia  counts  among  her  sonif- 

To  thee  I  fain  would  pay  the  tribute  due 

To  signal  excellence,  to  merit  rare, 

And  genius  various,  vigorous  like  thine: 

Of  thy  transcendent  talents,  fain  would  I, 

In  strains  that  well  should  suit  the  subject,  sing; 

And  tell  how  rich  thy  fancy,  how  enlarged 

Thy  philanthropic,  energetic  mind, 

Thy  genius  how  original  and  vast, 

And  how  propitious  is  thy  moral  muse: 

But  all  thy  various  excellence  to  sing, 

And  paint  thee  truly,  were  to  paint-like  thee. 

Not  on  me,  KOTZEBUE,  devolves  the  task; 

Enchanting  dramatist !  'tis  not  for  me 

To  blazon"  thy  renown,  or  strive  to  swell, 

'With  my  presumptuous,  feeble  breath  to  swell 


LOW's  POEMS,  7 

'The  son'rous  note  which  Fame's  loud  trumpet  blows, 
Which  tells  the  sentimental  world  of  thee, 
And  bids  true  taste  to  read  thee  and  admire. 

Yet  I  must  jeopardize  my  little  mite 
Of  impotent  applause;  tho'  impotent, 
Sincere  and  cordial,  emanating  frpm 
A  heart  to  nature  and  thy  painting  true: 
Yes,  often  have  thy  scenic  pictures,  oft 
Those  moral  truths  and  sentiments  refin'd, 
Which  designate  the  labours  of  thy  pen, 
And  stamp  the  chaste  dramatic  pages  thine, 
Upon  that  heart  impress'd  their  magic  power, 
Exciting  exquisite  emotions  there. 
Inimitable  bard  1  exceli'd  by  none, 
Save  him  whose  labours  honour  Britain's  isle; 
Thou  second  SHAKESPEARE — for,  like  him  in  love 
With  nature,  all  her  works  and  ways,  and  all 
Her  various  workings  in  the  human  heart, 
Well  dost  thou  know,  and  well  exhibit  too; 
Combining  alt  that's  just  and  wise  in  man, 
Whate'er  is  amiable,  noble,  great, 
And  dignify'd,  and  beautiful,  and  good, 
In  one  accomplished  character  j  to  wia 


76       ,  LOW's  POEMS. 

Our  souls  to  virtue,  and  to  make  us  see 

Its  beauty,  and  its  sacred  influence  feel. 

Nor  dost  thou  "  Nature's  modesty  o'erstep," 

To  aid,  concentrate,  polish,  and  perfect 

All  that  is  good  in  multifarious  man; 

For,  Nature's  wond'rous  art  perform'd  the  same, 

When  she  produc'd  th'  accomplished  WASHINGTON. 

Yes,  Nature  is  thy  perfect  pattern,  she, 
At  once  thine  idol  and  thy  polar  star, 
Claims  all  thy  rev'rence,  fashions  all  thy  plans. 
Of  her  enamour'd,  still  dost  thou  delight 
To  shew  thine  idol  in  her  best  attire, 
Her  loveliest  actions,  most  engaging  forms, 
And  colours  most  attractive;  lovely  most 
When  the  great  characters  thy  pencil  draws ; 
Their  nicest  traits,  their  strongest  lineaments, 
By  all  the  scenic  beauties  of  the  stage, 
Are  aided  and  preserv'd ;  and  when  enforc'd 
And  grac'd  by  HODGKINSON'S  theatric  powers; 
His  powers  can  give  thine  interesting  scenes 
Increasing  int'rest ;  well  does  he  conceive, 
With  nice  discernment  and  a  taste  correct, 
Thy  numberless  perfections;  well  does  he 


LOW's  POEMS.  77 

Thine  elegant  simplicity  display, 

With  all  the  actor's  skill,  the  actor's  graces 

Thy  charming  pictures,   by  his  happy  aid, 

Strike  the  rapt  auditor's  awaken'd  sense 

With  all  the  beauty,  emphasis  and  force 

Thou  didst  intend  ;•  and  make  him  see,  and  think, 

And  feel,  and  understand,  almost  like  thee. 

In  ev'ry  point  to  thee  and  Nature  true, 

To  ev'ry  word  and  sentiment  of  thine 

He  gives  appropriate  energy  and  beauty, 

And  ev'ry  passage  yields  its  just  effect. 

Whether  his  animated  acting  rouse 

The  glow  of  patriot  fervour,  or  inspire 

The  love  of  honour,  freedom,  truth,  or  if 

It  make  the  virtuous  mind  abhorrent  turn 

From  the  dread  view  of  hell-engender'd  vice, 

Oppression,  cruelty,  ingratitude, 

And  savage  Just,  and  scoundrel  perfidy; 

Or  if  the  melting  pathos  of  the  scene 

Infuse  its  sweet,  benign  and  subtle  influence 

In  the  susceptible,  ingenuous  hearr, 

Whichever  is  to  sympathy  alive, 

And  ouivers  at  the  slightest  touch  of  woe; 

Which  knows  to  realize  the  vast  distress, 


78  LOW's  POEMS. 

And  tender  int'rest  of  the  tragic  scene, 
Enjoys  the  bliss  of  sentiment,  and  feels 
The  enviable  luxury  of  tears — 
Alike  thou  dost  enlighten,  please,  instruct, 
Reform  the  manners,  regulate  the  taste, 
Delight  the  fancy,  and  amend  the  heart. 

Sweet  philosophic  poet!  in  whose  works 
The  blaze  of  native  genius,  and  the  depths 
Of  solid  science,  happily  unite : 
In  whose  enchanting  dramas,  all  the  charmS| 
The  fancy,  the  sublimity,  and  beauty 
Of  poesy,  and  all  the  force  and  sense 
Of  temp'rate  prose,  in  sweet  accordance  blend. 
Thou,  thou  alone  hast  found  the  arduous  art, 
To  weave  momentous,  philosophic  truths, 
Political  and  moral  truths  to  weave, 
With  wond'rous  skill,  in  thy  dramatic  web; 
To  harmonize  instruction  and  delight, 
And  make  the  drama  well  subserve  the  cause 
Of  truth  and  virtue,  spite  of  prejudice, 
Which  only  in  the  sacred  desk  beholds 
The  torch  of  Truth,  or  Virtue's  awful  presence; 
Not  thus  beholds  enlighten'd  Charity, 


LOW's  POEMS. 

Not  thus  do  Reason  and  Experience  judge: 
For,  while  the  scenic  exhibition  gives 
Delight  and  admiration ;  while  we  dwell, 
Enraptur'd  dwell  upon  thy  charming  themes, 
Our  senses,  passions,  reason,  all  our  powers 
Are  marshall'd  on  the  side  of  Truth  and  Virtue. 
Proceed,  great  author!    Error's  baseless  walls 
Continue  still  to  slowly^  surely  sap; 
In  Beauty's  garb  let  Reason  still  appear, 
And  Truth's  commanding  voice  in  thee  be  heard, 

Nor  hast  thou  caught  the  phrenzy  of  the  age. 
The  factious  cant,  th'  enthusiastic  zeal 
Of  modern  politicians;  proof  against 
Their  specious  systems  is  thy  stronger  mind. 
Averse  alike  to  tyranny,  which  gives 
To  suff'ring  man  his  most  afflictive  ills, 
Destroying  or  eclipsing  "  half  his  worth;" 
And  that  licentious- liberty,  which  spurns 
At  salutary  rule  and  just  restraint, 
And  mars  the  blessings  of  the  social  state ;  . 
Thou  dost  decry  them  both,  and  both  avoid j 
Pursuing  still  that  temp'rate,  happy  mean, 
'J'hat  rational  and  practicable  coursej 


So  LOW's  POEMS. 

Which  all  the  lib'ral  and  enlighten'd  take, 
And  which  benevolence  must  still  pursue. 

Thy  num'rous  labours  are  alike  exempt 
From  that  impure  and  vicious  taste,  which  once 
Upon  Thalia's  sons  brought  foul  disgrace; 
And  from  that  trick,  and  foppery,  and  froth, 
With  which  the  modern  Thespian  school  abounds, 
Pure  is  thy  gold,  oh  poet !     No  alloy 
Of  hackney'd  sentiment,  or  vapid  wit, 
Its  native  brightness  sullies,  or  impairs 
Its  sterling  value :  brilliant  are  thy  gems, 
And  precious  and  intrinsic  is  their  worth : 
They,  with  no  counterfeit  or  borrow  Jd  lustre, 
On  mental  vision  glare  a  transient  beam, 
And  cheat  the  sense  with  meretricious  beauty. 
With  bold,  original,  and  daring  genius, 
With  noble  independence,  and  a  taste 

Correft  and  polish'd,  thou  hast  spurn'd  the  bounds 
i 

To  which  scholastic  pedantry,  to  which 

Th'  imperious  voice  of  ancient  prejudice 
Had  long  confm'd  the  drama;  broke  the  spell, 
s  (As  Albion's  SHAKESPEARE  erst)  the  slavish  spell, 
Py  ages  consecrated,  san&ion'd  still 


LOW's  POEMS, 

By  those  who  make  antiquity  their  guide; 

Who  view  its  dogmas  with  religious  awe, 

And  by  its  crude  opinions  square  their  own: 

Long  its  absurd  and  arbitrary  rules  v 

Have  kept  in  vassalage  the  mental  world, 

Repress'd  the  fire  of  genius,  and  controul'd, 

And  warp'd,  and  fetter'd  man's  improving  powers; 

Which  Nature  did  ordain,  with  ev"ry  age 

To  grow  more  perfect,  more  sublime  to  rise, 

And  unrestrain'd  to  wing  their  tow'ring  flight. 

These  artificial  rules  thy  taste  contemns, 

These  false  restraints  it  greatly  sets  at  nought ; 

Successfully  hast  thou  exploded  these, 

Or  hast  improv'd — no  bounds  thy  genius  knows, 

Except  the  limits  Nature  hath -prescrib'd, 

And  cultivated  Reason  does  approve. 

Thy  vig'rous  mind,  or  in  the  comic  path, 
Or  grave  Melpomene's  majestic  walks, 
Is  greatly  adequate  to  ev'ry  theme; 
Is  skill'd  alike  to  paint  the  splendid  scene 
Where  regal  pomp  presides,  and  courtly  tongues 
Sublimely  talk,  and  kingly  footsteps  grace, 


82  LOW's  POEMS. 

August  and  dignified,  the  Thespian  boards; 

Or  humbler,  more  endearing  scenes  to  draw, 

Of  sweet  domestic  bliss,  of  worth  obscure, 

Or  social,  or  ascetic;  these  thou  lov'st 

To  trace  and  copy  with  a  master's  hand: 

Well  dost  thou  know  to  give  to  scenes  like  these, 

That,  dignity  which  falsely  nice  observers, 

(Recreant  to  Nature's  most  engaging  charms,) 

Which  frigid,  squeamish  hypercrhics  want, 

To  save  their  feelings  from  disgust  and  spleen: 

Nor,  such  to  please,  dost  thou  negleft  to  give 

Those  sofr,  affecling  touches,  which  can  move 

Ev'n  the  cold  heart  of  stoic  apathy, 

And  make  the  thoughtless  libertine  reflecT:. 

Oh!   who  so  sweetly  can  delineate, 

So  feelingly,  yet  simply  can  describe, 

Maternal  anguish  or  parental  joy? 

The  lover's  ecstacies,  and  hopes,  and  fears? 

Th'  impassion'd  plaint  of  conjugal  distress? 

Of  conjugal  felicity  the  charms? 

Friendship  disint'rested,  and  pure  and  warm? 

The  fond  familiar  intercourse  of  love, 

And  tenderness,  and  innocence,  and  peace? 


LOW's  POEMS.  83 

With  interesting  characters  like  these, 
And  pictures  thus  benign,  thou  canst  beguile 
The  wretch  of  suff'ring,  smooth  the  brow  of  care, 
Make  thy  attentive  auditor  keep  pace 
With  ev'ry  scene  thy  fertile  muse  pourtrays, 
Sweetly  transporting  him  to  fairy  land ! 
Poet  of  Nature!  lovely  are  thy  scenes, 
And  lovely  all  thine  images  to  me : 
Oh!  still  delight — oh!  captivate  me  still, 
And  with  thine  intellectual  beauties  charm 
One  who  admires,  and  venerates,  and  loves 
Thy  genius — an  enthusiast  in  thy  favour: 
From  him  this  off'ring,  due  to  truth,  accept} 
This  poor,  unequal  tribute  of  applause, 
To  thy  desert  unequal — but  sincere, 
And  therefore  not  unworthy  thy  regard. 


ON 

MILTON's  PARADISE  LOST. 


URANIA!  prompt  my  daring  lays, 

While  MILTON  I  attempt  to  praise; 

The  bard  divine,  the  learned  sage, 

Whose  genius  glows  in  ev'ry  page 

Of  that  vast  proof  of  human  powers, 

His  epic  strain :  sublime  it  towers. 

His  thoughts  by  inspiration  rise, 

Ascending  to  empyreal  skies : 

Nor  miss  their  way,  nor  fail  to  scan 

GOD'S  grand  designs  to  fallen  man; 

He  sings  how  man,  from  bliss  tho'  cast, 

Shall  rise  to  higher  bliss  at  last; 

At  last  shall  be  to  heav'n  restor'd, 

By  woman's  seed,  heav'n's  sov'reign  Lord. 

The  Paradise  of  GOD,  the  hell 

In  which  rebellious  spirits  dwell, 

Permit  his  bold,  poetic  flight; — 

Their  wonders  burst  upon  his  sight. 


LOW's  POEMS. 

Th'  eternal  "  ancient  of  all  days," 

Who  universal  Nature  sways, 

A  glimpse  of  heav'nly  glory  deigns 

To  shed  on  his  exalted  strains. 

He  bids  the  heav'n  of  heav'ns  display 

Its  splendours  bright,  of  which  one  ray 

Can  dart  intolerable  day. 

Lo !  on  his  everlasting  throne, 

Jehovah's  well-beloved  Son; 

See  him  in  majesty  divine, 
Above  celestial  orders  shine; 

Behold  the  King  of  kings  descend; 
Adoring  myriads  to  him  bend, 
And  heav'n  with  acclamations  rend. 
In  might  omnipotent  he  goes, 
To  meet  his  sire's  presumptuous  foes; 
His  chariot-wheels  of  flaming  fire, 
And  awful  thunder  speak  his  ire; 
His  wrath  heav'n's  pillar'd  basis  shakes, 
And  Tophet's  deep  foundation  quakes; 
He.  comes  in  dreadful  pomp  array'd — 
The  rebel  hosts  recoil  dismay'd; 
Aghast  they  wait  th'  impending  doom, 
Hell's  caverns  yawn  to  give  them  roomj 


86  LOW's  POEMS. 

/ 

And  all  the  powers  who  dar'd  rebel, 

His  thunder  plunges  down  to  hell: 

From  bliss  supernal  headlong  hurl'd, 

They  now  possess  th'  infernal  world. 

Personify 'd  the  fallen  crew, 

To  MILTON'S  fancy  rise  to  view; 

Death  grins  a  smile  with  ghastly  jaws., 

And  Sin,  with  snakes,  her  bosom  gnaws; 

Hell's  monarch,  'midst  immortal  pangs, 

His  vanquish'd  fellow  fiends  harangues ; 

With  haughty  port,  and  lowring  brow, 

He  meditates  revenge  below. 

Through  Chaos  now  he  wings  his  flight,  . 

And  horrors  of  primeval  night; 

Through  elemental  uproar  sweeps, 

Where  wild  Misrule  dominion  keeps; 

With  strides  Colossal,  towards  day 

He  fearless  seeks  his  '"uncouth  way." 

Thus  MILTON'S  mind,  like  boundless  space, 
Could  GOD'S  whole  universe  embrace; 
From  heav'n  to  Tartarus  profound, 
Could  compass  vast  creation  round:       ' 
Eternity,  infinitude, 


LOW'S  POEMS.  87 

i 

With  more  than  mortal  eyes  he  view'd; 

Or  saw  as  clear  as  mortal  cou'd. 
Exalted  Bard  !  my  feeble  lays 
Attempt  in  vain  to  sing  thy  praise ; 
Thy  work,  oh!  fav'rite  of  the  nine, 
Shall  with  increasing  lustre  shine, 
Till  hoary  Time  his  race  hath  run, 
And  Death's  devouring  work  is  done; 
Shall  nourish  while  this  globe  remains, 
Unrivall'd  still  as  now  it  reigns; 
Sweet  Poet !  greatest  of  the  three, 
Whose  labours  we  with  rapture  see; 
For  HOMER,  VIRGIL,  live  alike  in  thee. 


(     88     ) 


HYMN 


CHRISTMAS-DAY. 


JjY  sin  and  sense  enslav'd  too  long, 

At  length,  my  soul,  aspire 
To  themes  which  once  employ'd  the  song 

Of  heav'n's  angelic  choir. 

"  Glory  to  GOD  !"  in  highest  strains. 

The  heav'nly  heralds  sung; 
"  Glory  to  GOD,  who  ever  reigns !" 

The  whole  creation  rung: 

**•  Good  will  to  men,  and  peace  on  earth, 

"  For  this  auspicious  morn, 
"  A  Saviour  of  celestial  birth, 

"  Ev'n  CHRIST  the  LORD  is  born!'* 


LOW's  POEMS.  89 

Th'  eternal  Word  forsook  the  skies, 

With  sinful  men  to  dwell, 
That  those  to  heav'n  with  him  might  rise, 

WTho  else  must  sink  to  hell. 

Glory  to  GOD'S  unbounded  grace! 

The  holy  JESUS  lives, 
Whose  death  to  our  apostate  race 

A  life  eternal  gives, 

Mysterious  wisdom,  power  supreme, 

And  goodness  all  divine, 
Above  our  thoughts,  in  this  vast  scheme, 

With  radiant  glory  shine : 

And  shall  not  guilty,  fallen  men, 

For  such  stupendous  love, 
To  their  divine  Emanuel,  then 

Their  grateful  rapture  prove  ? 

Ador'd  Redeemer,  oh !  remove 

This  lethargy  of  sin, 
And  let  thy  all-constraining  love 

Our  future  heav'n  begin. 


oo  LOW's  POEMS. 

Hail  uncreated  source  of  light ! 

Life  of  our  spirits,  hail ! 
O'er  Death,  and  Satan's  blackest  night, 

Thy  kingdom  shall  prevail ! 


HYMN 

TO 

LIBERTY. 


Sung  in  Church  on  the  lath  Day  of  May,  1790;  bting  the 
Anniversary  of  the  Tammany  Society  or  Columbian  Order. 


DAUGHTER  of  heav'n,  thou  gift  divine, 

Best  portion  of  our  bliss! 
Each  day  that  greets  thy  sons  be  thine, 

But  chiefly  smile  on  this. 

Celestial  maid !  shall  Europe  boast 

The  saints  her  natives  feign; 
And  o'er  thy  best,  thy  fav'rite  coast, 

No  sacred  guardian  reign  ? 


LOW's  POEMS.  91 

Not  so,  blest  Freedom,  while  thy  rays 

Illume  our  vast  domain; 
Not — while  Columbia's  Order  blaze 

Effulgent  in  thy  train. 

Thine  angel  form  we  vainly  sought, 

While  Death  stood  at  thy  side, 
And  Danger,  Terror  too,  were  taught 

That  angel  form  to  hide : 

But  now  thy  presence  glads  our  sight, 

And  now  we  feel  thy  fire; — 
Oh!  may  the  sacred  flame  burn  bright, 

Till  Life's  last  spark  expire ! 

And  late  when  he  shall  call  thee  back, 

Who  fix'd  thy  seat  below ; 
Thy  sons  shall  mark  the  dazzling  track, 
•    And  go  where  thou  shalt  go. 

But,  lo!  our  brethren*  raise  to  thee 

A  longing,  asking  eye; — 
Ah!  that  the  gen'rous,  just  and  free, 

Should  disregard  their  cry  ! 

*  In  Algiers, 


9*  LOW's  POEMS. 

Millions  to  thee  at  length  look  up, 

From  Slav'ry's  iron  yoke; 
Nor  look  in  vain,  for  soon  their  cup 

Of  sorrow  shall  be  broke. 

But  shall  we  praise  a  gift  so  vast, 

And  not  the  giver  prize  ? 
Great  source  of  all  our  blessings  past, 

Forbid  the  rash  surmise ! 

Thy  servant,*  first  of  human  kind, 
His  country's  cause  maintain'd, 

When  Perseverance  look'd  behind, 
And  even  Hope  complain'd. 

When  those  dread  scenes  our  thoughts  inspire, 

We  tremble  and  adore; 
And  dotibt,  if  we  should  fear  thine  ire, 

Or  love  thy  mercy  more. 

Still  be  that  sov'reign  mercy  ours, 

Great  Spirit  of  the  free ! 
And  gratitude  shall  spend  its  powers 

Jn  songs  of  praise  to  thee. 

*  Washington. 


LOW's  POEMS.  93 

May  Time  still  fan  the  sacred  pyre 

Which  thirteen  sparks  shall  raise. 
Until  the  last  terrestrial  fire 

Shall  rival  Freedom's  blaze ! 


LINES 

Ifriflett  at  tie  request  of  tie  Members  of  Holland  Lodge,  at  a  tlmi  tvlcr. 
a  visit  was  expeiled from  the  Grand  Master  of  A 


DEE  Glory's  chosen  son, 
Unrivall'd  WASHINGTON, 

Our  Lodge  attend ! 
Our  country's  saviour  view, 
A  God-like  Mason  too; 
And  greet,  with  honors  due, 

Your  patriot  friend. 

Illustrious  brother,  hail ! 
Put  what  do  words  avail? 

The  theme's  too  high ! 
Our  heart-felt  joy  will  best 
By  silence  be  express'd; 
Lov'd  chief,  read  ev'ry  breast 

In  ev'ry  eye! 

% 

i 


(     94     ) 


CONSTITUTION. 


-«  Fools  admire,  but  men  of  sense  approve,51 


OINCE  Constitution  is  a  word 

By  men  so  often  us'd, 
And  all  its  meaning  made  absurd, 

By  knaves  and  fools  abus'd  j 

Pray,  courteous  reader,  mark. my  scheme^ 

Imprimis  I  must  shew, 
What  Constitutions  an't  my  theme, 

Then  item  let  you  know.   > 

:Th  not  the  Constitution  nice, 

Which  metaphysics  teach; 
Of  minds  compos'd  of  good  and  vice,, 

And  wond'rous  powers  of  each. 


LOW'S  POEMS.  95 

'Tis  not  the  body  that  we  hold 

To  anatomic  view; 
Nor  Constitution  now  call'd  oldt 

I  mean  the  one  that's  new. 

. 
A  plan  to  govern  thirteen  States 

Was  late  imperfeft  found ; 
But  politicians  made  debates 
To  constitute  it  sound. 

These  same  debates,  perus'd  by  most, 

Are  hated  or  embrac'd; 
Or  damn'd  (oh  shocking!)  or  the  boast 

Of  all  your  men  of  taste. 

i  i 

The  man  whose  looks  bespeak  him  iviset 

Protests  they  are  not  good ; 
Though  not  a  sentence  meets  his  eyes 

That  well  is  understood. 

With  shrug  important,  and  a  face 

Denoting  thought  profound, 
"  He  opes  the  snuff-box,  then  the  case," 

While  newsmongers  surround. 


LOW'S  POEMS. 

"Pray,  Sirs,  the  Constitution—  egh! 
"  D'ye  think  'twill  stand  the  test? 
"  Our  new-form'd  government,  I  say — 

"  Methinks  'tis  not  the  best. 

f 

"  The  house  of— pshaw — 'tis  not  the  thing, 

"  Its  power  will  be  too  great, 
"  The  President  will  be  a  King;     . 

"  Besides,  'tis  intricate." 

"How,  Sir,  not  good!  beware,  I  pray, 
"  To  hold  the  worst  of  creeds, 

"  Lest  you  be  deem'd,  as  well  you  may, 
"  A  foe  to  fed'ral  deeds. 

"  The  scheme  you  must  again  review, 

"  Permit  me  to  remark; 
"  For,  Sir,  the  Constitution's  new, 

"  And  therefore,  Sir,  is  dark." 

To  little  critics  dark  it  is, 

Its  faults  or  excellence 
Not  seen  by  the  sagacious  phiz 

Of  would-be  men  of  sense. 


LOW's  POEMS.  97 

In  simple  verse,  permit  a  bard 

His  sentiment  to  tell; 
(And  CATO  must  not  think  it  hard) 

He  likes  the  system  well; 

And  if  some  principle  be  there, 

That's  opposite  to  mine, 
How  wise  the  plan !  I  still  declare, 

What  judgment  in  each  line! 

What  if  my  feeble  thought  can't  soar 

Its  highest  good  to  find, 
Is  not  a  whole  Convention's  more 

Than  one  imperfecl  mind? 

Yes,  patriots,  by  experience  taughf, 

(Their  country's  guardian  guides) 
Concert  a  plan,  with  wisdom  fraught, 

And  WASHINGTON  presides! 


Since  he  has  led  the  virtuous  band, 
They  sure  have  counsel'd  best; 

Oh!  prosper,  heaven,  our  parent  land, 
And  make  her  people  blest ! 


98 


ODE, 

Occasioned  by  the  adoption  of  the  present  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  and  first  published  on  the  day  when  that  event 
was  celebrated  in  the  City  of  New-  York  by  a  Procession, 

EMERGING  from  old  Ocean's  bed, 
When  fair  Columbia  graceful  rear'd  her  head 
To  his*  glad  view;  for  whose  intrepid  soul 
High  heav'n  reserv'd  this  undiscover'd  goal; 
The  genius  of  the  solitary  waste, 
With  ecstacy  the  God-like  man  embrac'd, 

Prophetic  of  her  future  state; 
And  smil'd  serene,  and  hail'd  th'  approaching  day} 
When  older  nations,  envious,  should  survey 
Her  numerous  offspring,  good  and  great; 
But  still  sh'e  sigh'd,  and  dropt  a  tear, 
And  still  the  more  than  mortal  seer 
Anticipated  what  she  knew  too  well,f 
And  what,  this  memorable  day,  the  muse, 
With  retrospective  ken,  reluclant  views, 
And  this  blest  epoch  now  forbids  to  tell. 

*  Columbus.  f  The  war  with  Great-Britain. 


LOW's  POEMS.  go 

Distress'd,  she  saw,  but  with  prophetic  eyes, 
Thro'  scenes  of  horror,  future  bliss  descrys  j 
Sees  greater  good  from  partial  evil  rise. 
She  knew  how  empires  rise  and  fall, 
That  all  the  changes  on  this  earthly  ball 
Revolve  by  heav'n's  command, 
Nor  can  its  will  withstand. 
Submissive  she  that  power  ador'd, 
The  sov 'reign,  universal  LORD, 

Almighty,  wise  and  good! 
Whose  eye,  omniscient,  saw  'twas  right 
"  We  should  attain  a  glorious  height, 
Thro'  seas  of  kindred  blood. 

And  lo !  the  all-important  period's  nigh, 

And  swells  my  mighty  theme; 
An  aera  greater  than  the  golden  age, 

Cf  which  the  poets  dream;  \ 

And  adds  a  wond'rous,  an  illustrious  page, 
To  this  terrestrial  globe's  vast  history. 
Begin,  oh  muse! 
And  far  diffuse 
Th'  inspiring  news : 


ioo  LOW's  POEMS. 

To  earth's  remotest  bound, 
Throughout  the  world  let  joy  like  ours  be  found, 
And  Echo  catch  the  animating  sound, 
Now  all  our  highest  hopes  are  crown'd. 
Through  Time's  incessant  round, 
Fame's  trumpet  shall  resound 
This  long-desir'd  event, 

And  tell  what  mighty  blessings  heav'n  hath  sent. 
Immortal  Fame, 

Whose  loud  acclaim 

/ 
Is  deathless  as  the  poet's  song, 

To  countless  ages  shall  the  theme  prolong. 

Ten  sov'reign  States,  in  Friendship's  league  combin'dj 
Blest  with  a  government,  which  does  embrace 
The  dearest  int'rests  of  the  human  race, 

This  festive  day,  to  joy  resign'd, 

This  signal  day  we  celebrate: 

i 

Let  ev'ry  patriot  heart  dilate — 

Let  ev'ry  care  be  banish'd  far, 

Nor  aught  these  fed'ral  honors  mar. 
Behold  th'  admir'd  procession  move  along'; 
Our  sister  States,  the  happy  ten,  it  greets ; 
What  animation  in  the  crowded  streets  I 


,-      LOW's  POEMS.  ioi 

What  grateful  plaudits  from  each  tongue ! 
In  beautiful  arrangement,  lo! 

Majestically  slow, 
Some  thousands  move,  a  fed'ral  band, 

Advancing  hand  in  hand.  •  - 
Heart-cheering  sight !     Not  half  so  much  applause 
Did  Alexander's  pompous  pageants  crown: 
Ne'er  did  he  gain  such  merited  renown: 
This  spectacle  august  can  boast  a  nobler  cause! 

Hail,  Liberty  !  fair  offspring  of  the  skies, 
To  whom  these  grateful  offerings  rise, 
We  feel  thine  energy  divine! 

These  solemnities  are  thine  ! 

Union  rears  his  giant  form, 
With  life,  and  health,  and  vigour  warm ! 

Lo!  he  frowns  on  Faftion  fell — 
The  monster,  howling,  seeks  his  native  hell  1 

Joy  to  the  union  !  blest  Columbia  hail ! 
Distraction  in  thy  councils  now  shall  fail, 
And  Wisdom  and  efficience  soon  prevail: 
Justice  shall  now  exalt  her  well-poiz'd  scale: 


jo*  LOW's  POEMS. 

Celestial  Peace  her  silken  wand  extend, 
And  white-rob'd  F~irtue  from  the  skies  descend  i 
Genius  shall  mount  a  glorious  towering  height, 
By  genial  Science  foster'd  and  refin'd, 
And  deathless  wreaths  our  offspring's  temples  bindj 
While  dwindled  Europe  sickens  at  the  sight: 
Arts,  still  increasing,  shall  these  shores  adorn, 
And  halcyon  days  bless  millions  yet  unborn, 
Fair  as  the  aspect  of  the  vernal  morn ! 
Herculean  Industry,  with  dext'rous  hand, 
Shall  make  earth's  bosom  teem  at  its  command, 
And  Health  and  Plenty  glad  heav'n's  fav'rite  land : 
Pomona's  charge  shall  grow  luxuriant  here, 
And  bounteous  Ceres  crown  the  ripen'd  yearj 

Commerce  shall  raise  its  languid  head — 
The  nation's  dignity  that  with  it  fled, 

Triumphant  shall  its  place  resume, 
And  navies  start  from  the  tall  forest's  gloom  ! 

Joy  to  our  far-fam'd  chief,  whose  peerless  worth 
Makes  monarchs  sicken  at  their  royal  birth: 
And  joy  to  thee,  the  NEWTON  of  this  age, 
Whose  lore  hath  grac'd  the  scientific  page — « 
FRANKLIN,  the  patriot,  venerable  sage' 


LOW'S  POEMS. 

Hail,  ev'ry. champion  in  your  country's  cause! 
Long  shall  that  country  ring  with  your  applause, 
Exult  with  me,  ye  patriots,  that  no  more 
Diie  Discord's  clamours  vex  this  western  shore j 
That  jarring  States  to  Union  give  the  rein, 
And  all  approve  that  gently-pow'rful  chain, 
Thefed'ral  system,  which  more  firm  unites 
The  thirteen  States,  and  yet  preserves  our  rights, 
Oh,  may  those  rights  be  sacred  to  the  end, 
And  to  our  last  posterity  descend ! 
May  that  fair  structure  flourish  and  expand, 
And  ceaseless  blessings  crown  our  native  land ! 


ODE 

On  the  arrival  of  the  late  President  of  the  United  States  In 
the  City  of  New- York. 


1'une — "  God  save,"  CsV . 


Al AIL,  bright,  auspicious  day ! 
Long  shall  America 

Thy  praise  resound: 
Joy  to  our  native  land! 
Let  ev'ry  heart  expand, 
For  WASHINGTON'S  at  hand, 

With  glory  crown'd! 

Columbia's  children  hail! 
Behold,  before  the  gale, 

Your  chieftain  comes; 
The  matchless  hero's  nigh ! 
Now  raise  your  plaudits  high, 
With  trumpets  rend  the  sky, 

A.nd  martial  drums. 


LOW'S  POEMS.  105 

Illustrious  warrior  hail ! 
Oft  did  thy  sword  prevail 

O'er  hosts  of  foes; 
Come  and  fresh  laurels  claim, 
Still  dearer  make  thy  name, 
Long  as  immortal  Fame 

Her  trumpet  blows ! 

Thrice  welcome  to  this  shore, 
Our  leader  now  no  more> 

But  ruler  thou ; 
Oh,  truly  good  and  great ! 
Long  live  to  glad  our  State, 
Where  countless  honors  wait 

To  deck  thy  brow. 

Hush'd  be  the  din  of  arms, 
Henceforth  the  olive's  charms 

Shall  war  preclude; 
These  shores  a  head  shall  own, 
Unsully'd  by  a  throne, 
Our  much  lov'd  WASHINGTON, 

The  great,  the  good ! 


106 


A  FRIEND,  ON  HIS  MARRIAGE. 


JTl AIL,  happy  pair !  to  whom  no  lukewarm  friend 
Approving  gratulations  would  accord; 
May  ever  new  delights  your  path  attend, 
And  length  of  days  your  constancy  reward. 

How  many  anxious  days,  dear  ****,  you've  try'd 
To  win  the  charming  fair-one  you  ador'd; 
To  call  the  lovely  *******  your  bride, 
Seem'd  bliss  too  vast  for  fortune  to  afford ! 

'Tis  done — your  wish  obtain'd,  your  joy  complete, 
The  laughing  Loves,  the  Graces,  and  each  Muse, 
Propitious  join'd,  at  your  espousals  meet, 
And  ev'n  your  poet  celebrates  the  news. 

Your  poet  and  your  friend — his  ready  zcai 

Now  greets  your  nuptials,  and  your  choice  approve*; 

And  bids  his  long-neglected  muse  reveal 

How  much  he  shares  the  bliss  of  him  he  loves. 


LOWs  POEMS.  107 

Your  faith  I  know — ev'n  from  our  early  youth 
Our  souls  congenial  sympathy  confess'd, 
Secure  in  promises  of  ceaseless  truth, 
And  ever  acting  what  our  tongues  profess'd. 

'Tis  stilt  the  same — united  now  like  me, 
Alike  our  comforts,  and  alike  our  woe; 
No  diminution  shall  our  friendship  see, 
But  as  we  grow  in  years  our  love  shall  grow. 

Great  is  the  happiness  you  now  enjoy, 
And  many  blessings  crown  the  wedded  state; 
Ah!  .may  no  future  ill  your  peace  destroy, 
Or  baulk  the  prospects  which  your  heart  elate. 

May  all  the  joys  which  friendship  can  impart. 
(Delights  to  those  of  sense  superior  much) 
With  mutual  fondness  fire  each  glowing  heart; 
With  speechless  feelings  either  bosom  touch ! 

But  while  I  breathe  Affection's  purest  strain, 
And  hail  you  blest  in  Hymeneal  joys; 
Accept  the  moral  lay,  for  I  would  fain 
Direct  you  to  that  bliss  which  never  cloys. 


io8  LOW's  POEMS, 

That  ardent  fondness  for  your  beauteous  bride, 
The  joy  ecstatic,  and  th'  impassion'd  strain, 
Connubial  raptures !   will,  erelong,  subside; 
But  love,  unquench'd  by  time,  will  yet  remain. 

The  converse  sweet,  the  calm,  contented  mind, 
The  sympathetic  thought,  the  wish  to  please, 
The  look  complacent, — these  will  stay  behind, 
And  evanescent  joys  give  place  to  these. 

Far  other  scenes  await  beyond  the  tomb ; — 
When  all  those  transient  pleasures  shall  be  o'er, 
The  sweets  of  sense,  and  Beauty's  fleeting  bloom, 
Will  then  seduce  and  fascinate  no  more. 

Then,  oh!  let  moral  good  your  mind  employ  j 
Let  virtue,  sentiment,  your  hearts  allure; 
For  these,  when  Time  shall  all  things  else  destroy, 
These,  in  another  state,  will  still  endure. 

Be  this  your  pleasure,  this  your  highest  aim ; 
That  when  that  untry'd,  awful  change  you  prove, 
Your  kindred  souls  may  catch  a  seraph's  flame, 
And  burn  for  ever  with  a  seraph's  love ! 


AROSE. 

.TAIR,  blushing,  half-expanded  Rose, 
What  other  flower  can  with  thee  vie? 
Whose  vivid  tints  more  charms  disclose, 
Than  Iris'  bow,  or  Tyrian  dye. 

Sweet-scented,  fragrance-breathing  Rose ! 
Not  eastern  gales  such  odours  bear; 
Not  all  the  tribes  which  Flora  knows 
Can  with  thy  rich  perfume  compare. 

Oh !  yes — a  flower  as  fair  and  sweet 
Hath  often  fix'd  my  raptur'd  gaze; 
In  MIR  A  all  thy  beauties  meet; 
Yes,  MIR  A  all  thy  charms  displays: 

V  \ 

Like  thee  she  charms  in  Life's  gay  noon, 
And  sheds  around  ambrosial  breath; 
And  like  thee  too,  must  wither  soon, 
And  yield,  alas!   to  Time  and  Death: 

2K 

x 


no  LOW's  POEMS. 

But  not  like  thine,  frail,  short-liv'd  flower, 
Is  lovely  MIRA'S  final  doom; 
Death  never  will  thy  bloom  restore, 
But  MIRA'S  charms  again  will  bloom: 

For  Virtue's  flame  her  bosom  warms, 
'  Which  heav'n,  sweet  Rose,  to  thee  denies; 
And  heav'n  her  conscious  soul  informs. 
That  worth  like  MIRA'S  never  dies. 


INSTABILITY  OF  FRIENDSHIP, 


And  what  is  friendship  but  a  name; 

A  charm  that  lulls  to  sleep ; 
A  shade  that  follows  wealth  or  fame, 

But  leaves  the  wretch  to  weep  f 

Goldsmith. 


1  O  smooth  the  thorny  road  of  life,  we  fain 
A  fellow  mortal's  friendly  aid  would  try; 
We  try — but  ah !  the  issue  proves  'tis  vain 
To  look  for  aid  from  beings  born  to  die. 

Since  Manhood's  dawn  I  still  have  fondly  strove 
For  health  and  affluence,  long  of  these  devoid; 
Sigh'd  for  those  transient  joys  which  mortals  love; 

By  me,  alas!  too  transiently  enjoy'd. 

i 

Oft  as  assiduous  earthly  good  I  sought, 
Some  blessing  which  as  oft  hath  been  deny'd, 
I  still  believ'd  (oh,  impotence  of  thought!) 
A  friend  might  help  me  stem  Misfortune's  tide. 


iia  LOW's  POEMS. 

He  might — but,  ah !  experience  can  attest, 
(Sad  witness  of  a  truth  perceiv'd  too  late!) 
Friendship's  a  blessing  when  by  man  possess'd; 
But  few  possess  it  in  this  lower  state. 

I  thought  my  friend  was  uncorrupted  truth; 
I  thought — but,  oh!  deceitful  he  was  found; 
Skill'd  how  to  fascinate  ingenuous  youth, 
And  in  what  point  the  feeling  heart  to  wound: 

For  while  the  peace-depriving  charm  I  press'd, 
Deep  in  my  heart  th'  invenom'd  inmate  stole, 
And  basely  wounded  (ah !  perfidious  guest) 
A  faithful,  gen'rous,  unsuspicious  soul. 

And  yet,  when  Time  had  well  matur'd  the  mind, 
Tho'  Reason's  dictates  more  enlight'ned  grew, 
Still  Providence  to  me  appear'd  unkind, 
And  still  the  phantom,  friend,  remain'd  in  view. 

With  notions  high  of  truth  and  honor  fraught, 
If  faithless  friends  protested,  I  believ'd; 
Enthusiast  that  I  was !  I  spurn'd  the  thought, 
That  knaves  seem  true  when  honesty's  deceiv'd. 


LOW's  POEMS.  113 

The  dupe  of  art,  by  well-meant  zeal  inspir'd, 
Would  fly  to  clear  a  fav'rite's  blighted  fame; 
Such  confidence  some  damning  proof  requir'd, 
To  ope'  my  eyes,  and  stifle  Friendship's  flame. 

Ye  upright  few,  whom  Virtue's  influence  sways, 
With  hearts  susceptible  of  truth  and  love, 
"  Trust  not  in  man,"  celestial  Wisdom  says, 
And  sage  Experience  can  its  wisdom  prove. 

Ev'n  ye  whose  souls  are  tainted  least  with  vice 

Know  not  what  latent  evils  harbour  there  3 

A  spark  of  envy,  pride,  or  avarice, 

Can  raise  a  flame  which  Friendship  will  not  bear. 

How  frail  is  man,  the  wisest  and  the  best ! — 
How  very  foolish  if  he  thinks  he's  wise, 
Who  sees  Earth's  cheating  joys,  by  Fancy  dress'd, 
In  Beauty's  garb,  and  Virtue's  semblance  rise. 

Mysterious  GOD  !  submissive  to  thy  will, 
Oh,  teach  this  cheerless,  erring  soul  to  bend; 
Let  thy  rich  wisdom  guide  my  footsteps  still, 
And  thine  omnipotence  from  ill  defend. 


LOW's  POEMS. 

Great  is  the  evil  of  man's  heart,  hut  thou 
Art  greater  far  that  evil  to  subdue ; 
To  Goodness  infinite  let  mortals  bow, 
And  own  how  little  good  the  best  can  do. 

A  thousand  snares  our  rectitude  oppose, 
And  oft  we  know  not  how  those  snares  to  ward ; 
Oh !  teach  us  to  o'ercome  these  moral  foes, 
Supremely  wise!  divinely  gracious  LORD! 

Whene'er  I  fix  my  eyes  on  things  below, 
Whene'er  for  unsubstantial  bliss  I  sigh, 
Since  oft  repeated  disappointments  shew 
The  specious  good  is  vice  or  vanity: 

May  I  confess  thy  providence  is  just, 
And  know  and  try  its  salutary  use ; 
Know  that,  improv'd  aright,  these  evils  must 
(As  thou  hast  prcmis'd)  final  good  produce: 

That  if  we  in  tly.  friendship  do  confide, 
Nor  men,  nor  fiends  can  make  that  union  cease; 
That  through  Life's  troubles  thou  wilt  surely  guide 
A  way-worn  pilgrim  to  eternal  peace. 


ALPHONSO  AND  AGNES. 


The  plot  of  this  Poem  Is  taken  from  the  story  of  the  Bleedin 
in  "  Ambrosio,  or  the  Monk,"  written  by  M.  G.  LEWIS 


IN  Lindenberg  castle,  whose  battlements  rear 

Their  Gothic  remains  to  the  sun, 
On  ev'ry  fifth  May  day  of  ev'ry  fifth  year, 
At  the  still  hour  of  one  did  a  spectre  appear, 

Array'd  in  the  garb  of  a  nun: 

The  dread  apparition  was  meager  and  tall; 

JBlood  drop'd  on  her  robes  from  a  wound; 
Her  haggard  eyes  deep  in  their  sockets  did  fall; 
Her  presence  the  bravest  of  men  could  appal ; 

The  women  beheld  her  and  swoon'd ! 

Conceal'd  was  her  face  with  a  nun's  dismal  veil, 

And,  when  the  ghost  drew  it  aside, 
Her  visage  cadaverous,  ghastly  and  pale, 
To  the  spot  seern'd  the  shudd'ring  spectators  to  nail; 
The  blood  in  their  veins  ceas'd  to  glide ! 


lib  LOW's  POEMS. 

The  castle's  fair  inmate  was  AGNES — whose  eyes 

Had  shed  Love's  delicious  delight 
In  ALPHONSO'S  susceptible  heart — when  with  sighs 
Her  breasts  gently  heav'd — the  soft  fleece  of  the  skies 

No  more  to  his  view  appear'd  white. 

The  virgin  for  him  felt  a  similar  flame, 
Her  tongue  equal  ardour  confess'd; 
Whenever  ALPHONSO  to  Lindenberg  came, 
What  transports  deleftable  thrill'd  thro'  her  frame ! 
What  speechless  delight  fir'd  her  breast ! 

Her  aunt,  old,  repugnant,  antique  and  morose, 

Her  passion  oft  strove  to  restrain; 
A  vow  doom'd  the  maid  (ere  her  birth)  to  the  cross; 
And  the  blind  devotee  deprecated  the  loss 

Which  heav'n  in  her  niece  might  sustain; 

Her  vigilance  only  their  passion  inflam'd, 

Her  rigour  but  fed  their  desires; 
In  vain  the  fierce  beldam  or  threat'ned  or  blam'd; 
Coercion  and  convents  have  never  yet  tam'd 

Or  quench'd  Love's  omnipotent  fires. 


LOW's  POEMS.  117 

Ere  the  fifth  day  of  May  of  the  well-noted  year, 

When  all  did  the  vision  expect, 
ALPHONSO  soft  whisper'd  in  AGXES'S  ear, — 
"  At  the  still  hour  of  one,  in  the  morning  appear, 

"  In  ghostly  habiliments  deck'd; 

"  For  then  all  believe  that  the  spectre,  as  erst, 
"  Down  stairs  thro'  the  hall  will  proceed: 
"  Be  thou,  AGNES,  veil'd  like  the  spirit — and  first 
"  Glide  thro'  the  apartments — then,  Fate,  do  thy  worst) 
"  My  AGNES'S  flight  to  impede!" 

The  period  approaches-^-fly  swift,  ye  dull  hours j 

ALPHONSO  experts  his  love  soon: 
The  night  breeze  sighs  sadly,  and  awes  his  rapt  powers  \ 
The  owl  screams  and  wails  from  the  mouldering  towers 

That  shine  with  the  beams  of  the  moon* 

The  porter  wide  opens  the  castle's  huge  gates ;          , 

(The  bleeding  nun  whilom  stalk'd  thence) 
ALPHONSO'S  heart  throbs — mute  and  breathless  he  waits^ 

He  sighs,  and  implores,  and  accuses  the  Fates, 

i          <  . 
Now  hoping,  now  chill'd  by  suspense* 

L 


liS  LOW'S  POEMS. 

He  numbers  the  minutes !    Time  seems  to  stand  still: 

Hark! — One  vibrates  shrill  in  his  ears— • 
Tumultuous  emotions  his  bosom  now  fill, 
And,  oh !  what  ineffable  joys  through  him  thrill, 
When  a  torch  at  a  distance  appears! 

She  comes,  nor  forgets  to  extinguish  the  light, 

/" Her  aunt's  dreaded  notice  to  shun: 
He  sees,  by  the  moon-beams  which  gild  the  drear  nighty 
"Tis  she — 'tis  his  AGNES  who  blesses  his  sight, 
Array'd  like  the  ghost  of  the  nunJ 

"Sweet  AGNES,  dear  AGNES,"  he  cries,  "thon  art  mine, 

"  The  maid  whom  I  love  and  adore; 

i 
*'  Betrothed  to  thee,  my  belov'd,  I  am  thirie,> 

"  Lov'd  AGNES,  thou  now  art  unchangeably  minejr 
"  Thou  never  shalt  part  from  me  more!" 

She  flies  to  his  arms,  and  he  clasps  to  his  heart 

The  nymph  who  enamours  his  souls' 
In  the  carriage  which  waits,  in  an  instant  they  dart; 
They  vow  endless  love>  and  their  transports  impart, 

While  the  chariot  wheels  rapidly  roll. 


LOW'S  POEMS.       •  119 

Now  swift  fly  the  horses — swift  spin  the  wheels  round; 

The  castle's  high  turrets  recede; 
Scarce  seem  the  fleet  coursers  to  tread  on  the  ground, 
They  plunge  deep  in  valleys,  o'er  mountains  they  bound, 

They  rival  the  hurricane's  speed: 

ALPHONSO  endeavours  to  govern  their  fire, 

But  calls  to  the  drivers  in  vain; 
Such  fury  the  mettlesome  steeds  does  inspire, 
They  more  than  Herculean  exertion  require, 

Their  perilous  speed  to  restrain ; 

i 

O'er  ditches  they  leap,  over  hedges  they  fly, 

Now  down  the  fell  precipice  dash; 
Wheels  rattle,  steeds  snort,  lightning  glares  thro'  the  sky  1 
Winds  bellow,  and  thunder  rolls  awful  on  high! 

And  bursts  with  a  terrible  crash !     . 

The  shock  fills  ALPHONSO  with  dreadful  alarms; 

The  .virgin  clings  to  him  abash'd; 
He  fears  for  her  life  while  he  hangs  o'er  her  charms; 
She  shrieks,  wild  with  terror, — she  faints  in  his  arms! 

The  chariot  in  pieces  is  dash'd! 


120  v     LOW's  POEMS. 

The  drivers  have  vanish'd — the  horses  lie  dead— 

ALPHONSO,  unconscious,  lies  there; 
All  shatter'd  the  chariot's  loose  fragments  are  spread  j 
The  nun's  bleeding  form  from  ALPHONSO  hath  fled; 
The  vision  dissolves  into  air! 

ALPHONSO  revives — he  remembers  his  fair; 

Love  kindles  up  Life's  dying  fires; 
Kind  peasants  have  cherish'd  and  lodg'd  him  with  care ; 
He  gazes  around  him,  in  frantic  despair, 

For  AGNES,  his  love,  he  inquires. 

They  hear  with  concern, — their  best  succour  is  us'd, 

They  mourn  his  condition  so  sad; 
His  limbs  are-disjointed,  and  mangled,  and  bruis'd, 
His  senses  by  terror  and  pain  are  confus'd; 

They  deem  the  lorn  sufferer  mad. 

No  AGNES  was  seen  when  ALPHONSO  was  found: 

He  raves,  hapless  youth !  at  the  news; 
The  walls  of  the  mansion  with  "  AGNES"  resoundj 
For  AGNES  he  sends  fifty  messengers  round; 
His  wounds  crimson  currents  effuse: 


LOV/'s  POEMS.  -."I 

Exhausted  with  anguish  of  body  and  mind, 

In  stupor  lethargic  he  sinks; 

Dreams  harrow  his  soul; — on  the  wings  of  the  wind 
He  ransacks  the  world  his  lov'd  AGNES  to  find: — 

Of  nothing  but  AGNES  he  thinks. 

Now  Fancy  hath  plac'd  the  dear  maid  by  his  side.; 

But  diemons  his  bride  from  him  tear: 
They  plunge,  with  their  prey,  in  a  gulph  deep  and  wide! 
ALPHONSO  exclaims,  "nought  our  loves  shall  divide!" 

And  leaps  down  the  gulph  in  despair. 

He  starts,  as  the  dreadful  abyss  he  surveys; 

He  'wakes  in  a  horrible  fright; — 
Oh  GOD  !  what  a  figure  encounters  his  gaze; 
He  stares  at  the  bleeding  nun's  ghost  with  amaze, 

Envelop'd  in  drapery  white! 

/ 

She  stalks,  and  sits  down  on  the  bed  where  he  lies; 

All  bloodless  and  pale  are  her  cheeks; 
Her  cold,  livid  lips  to  his  face  she  applys; 
Upon  him  she  fixes  her  death-looking  eyes; 

In  accents  sepulchral  she  speaks ; 
s-l 


122  LOW's  POEMS. 

"  ALPHONSO,  ALPHONSO,  my  love,  thou  art  mine, 

"  The  youth  whom  I  love  and  adore; 
"  Betrothed  to  thee,  my  belov'd,  I  am  thine, 
"  ALPHONSO,  ALPHONSO,  my  love,  thou  art  mine; 
"  I  never  will  part  from  thee  more!" 

With  cold  clammy  hands,  that  of  rottenness  smell, 
ALPHONSO'S  worn  body  she  clasps; 

She  utters,  in  triumph,  a  horrible  yell! 

Big  drops  on  his  forehead  his  agony  tell; 

He  groans — his  blood  curdles — he  gasps! 

His  voice  hath  departed — his  bristling  hairs  rise — 

Chill  Horror  suspends  ev'ry  brefcth! 
A  motionless,  petrify'd  statue  he  lies, — 
His  heart  sinks  and  freezes  within  him — he  dies 
In  the  chilling  embraces  of  Death ! 


(     1*3    ) 


PEACE. 


This  Poem  was  first  published  shortly  after  the  ratification  of 
Peace  between  America  and  Great-Britain, 


DEEP  in  a  grove,  that  mock'd  the  northern  blast, 
And  o'er  the  scene  a  solemn  umbrage  cast, 
The  guardian  Genius  of  Columbia  stood; 
Serene  she  smil'd  upon  her  native  wood, 
And  tun'd  to  harmony  her  grateful  lay ; 
The  conscious  forest  own'd  her  cheering  ray; 
She  told  how  Peace  her  olive-branch  display'd, 
And  thus,  melodious,  sung  the  raptur'd  maid: 

"  Hail,  favour'd  land!  where  genial  Peace  now  deigns 
"  To  shed  her  joys  o'er  groves,  and  hills,  and  plains; 
"  Delightful  scenes,  by  smiling  Plenty  grac'd, 
"  A  paradise  emerging  from  a  waste! 
"  What  floods  of  transport,  what  delight  intense, 
"  That  now  Columbia's  free,  pervade  each  sense ! 


124  LOW's  POEMS. 

"  Long  have  her  sons  the  contest  well  maintained 
"  For  native  Freedom:  lo!  the  prize  is  gain'd: 
"  The  painful  conflict  o'er,  they  reap,  at  last, 
"  The  sweet  reward  of  all  their  labours  past. 

/ 

"  Sing,  tuneful  tenants  of  the  woodland  shade, 

"  For,  lo!  the  peaceful  standard  is  display 'd; 

"  Ye  lowing  herds  exalt  your  praises  high, 

"  And  let  your  hoarse  thanksgivings  reach  the  sky; 

"  Ye  sportive  flocks  bleat  loud,  and  let  the  sound 

"  Thro'  hills  and  vales  reverberate  around; 

"  Let  hills  and  vales,  inanimate,  rejoice; 

"  All  nature  raise  a  gratulating  voice ! 

"  Wave  high  your  heads  ye  trees,  your  joy  attest; 

"  And  bloom  ye  flow'rs,  in  various  colours  drest, 

"  Expand  your  beauties  to  th'  admiring  eye, 

*'  A  lovely  scene' — ye  who  in  waters  lie, 

.*'  And  gambol  glad  beneath  the  noontide  ray, 

"  In  silent  joy  to  Peace  your  homage  pay; 

"  Let  Ocean's  waves  exult;  and  ev'ry  spring 

"  Murmur  soft  praises  to  Creation's  King; 

"  To  Heaven's  King  let  man  now  raise  his  voice, 

"  Let  him,  in  grateful  strains,  supreme  rejoice; 


LOW'S  POEMS.  f  125 

"  Thou  zephyrus,  on  willing  wings,  diffuse 
"  Throughout  the  world  the  heart-reviving  news, 
u  That  war,  and  rapine,  and  oppression  cease, 
"  That  now  our  lot  is  Liberty  and  Peace !" 

Thus  spake  the  Genius  of  a  people  blest; 
Creation  list'ned,  and  -was  hush'd  to  rest; 
"  Attention  held  it  mute,"  while  thus  she  sung, 
For  eloquence  divine  inspir'd  her  tongue; 
Complacent  she  beheld  her  guardian  care, 
And  beam'd  celestial  radiance  thro'  the  air. 

What  gallant  leaders  exercis'd  command  ? 
What  vet'rans  led  Columbia's  martial  band? 
Those  long-try 'd  patriots,  who  so  bravely  fought, 
And  who  our  present  independence  wrought, 
Declare,  oh  Muse !  their  names,  their  deeds  review, 
And  gladly  celebrate  the  virtuous  few. 

The  foremost  hero  on  the  lists  of  Fame 
Is  WASHINGTON,  a  memorable  name: 
Oh,  truly  great  and  good !  oh,  truly  brave ! 
Who  didst  thy  country  from  oppression  save : 


126  LOW's  POEMS. 

Illustrious  chief!  that  country's  joy  and  pride,  • 
The  admiration  of  the  world  beside ; 
May  many  years  be  still  upon  thee  shed, 
And  Time  roll  prosp'rous  o'er  thy  honor'd  head : 
And,  now  the  work  of  devastation's  done, 
Now,  by  thy  arm,  at  length,  the  battle's  won, 
To  tranquil,  rural  scenes  again  retir'd, 
Mayst  thou  enjoy  the  bliss  so  long  desir'd ; 
There  calmly  may  thy  minutes  glide,  nor  cease 
Till  Heav'n  shall  call  thee  to  eternal  peace. 

What  other  heroes  claim  the  Muse's  song, 
Besides  the  humble,  undistinguished  throng? 
The  palm  of  victory,  oh,  GATES!  is  thine, 
Thou  fam'd  subduer  of  the  proud  BURGOYNE: 
GREENE,  too,  hath  merited  unfading  bays; 
Accept,  oh  chief!  no  flatt'ring  Muse's  praise. 
The  meed  of  gratitude  is  thine,  oh,  HOWE! 
And  laurels,  SULLIVAN,  shall  grace  thy  brow. 
Intrepid  SINCLAIR,  well  has  earn'd  the  same; 
And  future  Bards  shall  sing  of  WOOSTER'S  fame. 
To  PUTNAM'S  valour  they  the  song  shall  raise, 
And  strains  heroic  sound  the  vet'ran's  praise. 


LOW's  POEMS,  127 

To  such  what  vast  acknowledgments  are  due, 
Who  did  their  country's  good  so  long  pursue! 
To  such  what  tokens  of  sincerest  love! 
Ah  !  never  may  Columbians  thankless  prove^ 
But  prize  the  patriots  who  our  cause  espous'd, 
And  bless  the  impulse  which  their  spirits  rous'd ! 

Nor  can  the  grateful  Muse  forget  to  sing 
The  Godlike  virtues  of  the  Gallic  king; 
He  saw  our  foes  advancing,  from  afar, 
Against  a  country  uninur'd  to  war: 
He  saw  us  curs'd  by  transatlantic  laws, 
And  felt  a  gen'rous  ardour  in  our  cause. 
His  squadrons  cleave  the  undulating  wave — 
They  come;  an  injur'd,  suff'ring  race  to  save; 
Nor  come  in  vain: — our  vengeful  foes  advance, 
To  strike  pale  terror  in  the  hosts  of  France;  . 
But  they,  proud  mortals,  of  their  valour  vain,' 
With  British  blood  must  soon  the  ocean  stain* 
In  power  hereditary  they  rely, 
Nor  think  that  Britons,  like  their  foes,  may  die  j 
But  their  warm  sluices  too  must  swell  the  floodj 
And  blend  promiscuously  with  Gallic  blood. 


128  LOW's  POEMS. 

Fierce  war  they  wage  on  Ocean's  wat'ry  bed, 
With  vital  streams  th'  ensanguin'd  sea  turns  redi 
Each  has  his  country's  glory  near  at  heart — 
To  purchase  this  he  dares  with  life  to  part; 
Death  stalks  insatiate,  thund'ring  cannon  roar, 
And  loud  re-bellow  from  the  distant  shore : 
Each  lab'ring  ship  the  dire  concussion  feels, 
With  death-fraught  balls  her  hull  convulsive  reels: 
Beneath  the  mighty  shock  old  Ocean  shakes, 
_And  Neptune  wonders  what  such  uproar  makes. 

Nor  less  the  combat  rages  on  the  plain, 
Nor  less  the  number  of  ill-fated  slain; 
Here  mad  Bellona  thro'  the  armies  flies, 
The  flames  of  Discord  flashing  from  her  eyes; 
And  Mars,  infuriate,  prompts  the  dreadful  fight; 
His  lance,  high  brandish'd,  sheds  refulgent  light; 
Now  here,  now  there,  he  makes  the  battle  bleed, 
Grief,  Joy,  Fear,  Hope  alternately  succeed) 
Ruin,  and  Pain,  and  Carnage  reign  around, 
And  screams,  and  shouts,  and  dying  groans  resound. 

^ 

Awake  Melpomene!  the  mournful  lay, 
And  to  th3  illustrious  dead  thy  tribute  pay, 


LOW'S  POEMS.  129 

Fair  Freedom's  martyrs,  who,  in  evil  hour, 

So  Heav'n  decreed,  were  crush'd  by  foreign  power, 

Ye  patriots  who  can  patriot  worth  revere, 

For  brave  MONTGOMERY  shed  the  manly  tear; 

To  you  his  mem'ry  will  be  ever  dear. 

-"Twas  thine,  oh  chief!  by  all  the  brave  admir'd, 

With  dauntless  courage,  ardent  zeal  inspir'd, 

Ere  Victory  and  Peace  from  Heav'n  were  sent, 

(Ye  friends  of  human  kind  his  fate  lamentj.) 

To  bleed,  in  Liberty's  high  cause  to  die, 

A  viclim  to  remorseless  tyranny: 

When  Heav'n-enlight'ned  Bards,  in  future  days, 

Shall  sweetly  sing  our  fallen  heroes'  praise, 

Thy  name,  great  chief!  shall  have  a  signal  place, 

And  long  be  honor'd  by  Columbia's  race; 

Upon  thy  tomb  the  patriot's  tear  be  shed, 

And  trophied  monuments  adorn  thy  head. 

Deluded  isle !  couldst  thou  have  read  the  page 
Of  future  times,  we  ne'er  had  known  thy  rage; 
Thy  children  to  enslave  thou  ne'er  hadst  strove, 
But  rul'd  Columbia  with  parental  love. 
But  why  Britannia's  blasted  hopes  deplore, 
Her  greatness  fall'n,  her  mighty  now  no  more? 


ISO  LOW'S  POEMS. 

For  peace  we  sued,  in  days  of  deep  distress, 
But  sued  in  vain — our  wrongs  had  no  redress: 
Let  Britain,  then,  her  own  mad  acts  repent, 
Her  dwindled  power,  and  fame  eclips'd  lament; 
'Tis  ours  to  boast  that  we  have  gain'd  the  strife, 
Have  greatly  earn'd  peace,  liberty  and  life. 

Land  of  delight,  fair  Freedom's  fav'rite  seat, 
With  countless  blessings,  matchless  charms  replete 
Dear,  native  country  !  of  thy  fame  I  sing  ; 
Thy  rising  fame  throughout  the  world  shall  ring. 
Now  Peace,  at  length,  is  to  our  wishes  giv'n, 
.  Sweet,  lovely,  smiling  Peace,  best  gift  of  Heav'n: 
The  welcome  olive-branch  she  wide  extends, 
Heart-cheering  emblem',  to  the  farthest  ends 
Of  blest  Columbia  sheds  her  genial  ray, 
And  makes  a  continent  confess  her  sway: 
With  placid  aspect,  lo !   she  smiles  serene, 
And  views  benign  the  variegated  scene: 
A  clime  which  boasts  the  growth  of  ev'ry  soil, 
A  people  virtuous,  brave,  inur'd  to  toil; 
Of  all  the  various  arts  and  means  possest, 
To  be  without  a  foreign  ally  blest; 


LOW's  POEMS.      N  131 

Not  niggards  of  the  happiness  they  feel — 
To  suff'ring  strangers  they  a  portion  deal; 
And  here  the  exil'd  patriot  gladly  finds 
A  sweet  relief  in  sympathetic  minds. 

Here  Justice  elevates  her  sacred  head, 
The  good  man's  refuge,  and  the  culprit's  dread; 
With  nice  precision  deals  th'  avenging  rod,. 
And  imitates  the  attribute  of  God  ; 
In  scale  impartial  human  actions  weighs — 
What  Merit  claims  she  bountifully  pays, 
And  gives  to  Vice,  and  all  its  dang'rous  crew, 
Oppression,  Fraud,  and  Cruelty,  their  due. 

Here  busy  Industry  instructs  the  hand 
To  ply  the  arts,  to  cultivate  the  land, 
To  guide  the  ploughshare  thro'  a  fertile  soil, 
And  smooth  its  face  with  unabated  toil; 
To  make  abundance  from  its  bosom  flow, 
And  aid  its  rising  treasures  as  they  grow; 
Mark  Nature's  rip'ning  process  with  delight, 
And  make  rich  harvests  ev'ry  care  requite. 


J3*  LOW's  POEMS. 

Hence  trade  its  complicated  streams  derives — • 
This  is  our  strength,  by  this  a  nation  thrives. 
Whate'er  of  ease  or  elegance  man  knows 
In  polish'd  life,  from  agriculture  flows; 
Whate'er  from  earth's  maternal  bosom  springs, 
Health,  comfort,  opulence,  and  pleasure  brings: 
The  shipwright  models  hence,  of  curious  frame, 
The  stately,  complex  vessel,  dear  to  fame; 
The  merchant  hence  derives  increasing  gam; 
He  sends  his  country's  product  o'er  the  main; 
His  ships,  rich  freighted,  soon  returning,  pour 
The  wealth  of  realms  remote,  a  costly  store; 
Thus  plenty  here  in  such  profusion  flows, 
That  scarce  a  mortal,  want  or  suff' ring  knows; 
Thus  lavish  Nature,  with  indulgent  hand, 
Show'rs  all  her  blessings  on  this  favour'd  land. 

Nor  are  her  gifts  to  sensual  good  confin'd, — 
Her  care  beneficent  extends  to  mind : 
And  here,  celestial  Muse!  my  verse  inspire, 
Attune  to  bolder  strains  my  youthful  lyre; 
Another  theme  I  now  attempt  to  sing, 
And  try  to  stretch  a  more  advent'rous  wing; 


LOW's  POEMS.  i 

Our  intellectual  progress  claims  my  lay, 

To  sing  the  growth  of  Science  I  assay; 

Whose  fruits,  delectable  to  mental  taste, 

Now  bless  these  regions,  late  a  savage  waste; 

For,  lo!  where  thorns  and  thistles  lately  grew, 

A  thousand  seminaries  rise  to  view; 

And  as  the  number  grows,  transporting  truth! 

In  literary  fame  advance  our  youth; 

On  them  fair  Science  hath  already  shone, 

Already  they  its  blissful  influence  own: 

In  thee,  the  Muse,  oh,  FRANKLIN  !  fain  would  tell 

What  useful  lore  and  sage  experience  dwell; 

In  thy  philosophy  such  lights  appear, 

As  make  a  wond'ring  world  thy  name  revere; 

Thy  genius  hath  repell'd  the  lightning's  force, 

And  turn'd  its  vengeful  blaze  a  safer  course: 

Nor  thee  alone  hath  Science  taught  to  find, 

Whate'er  enlightens  and  expands  the  mind: 

It  gives  the  self-taught  RITTENHOUSE  renown, 

And  joys  our  learned  JEFFERSON  to  crown. 

In  glory  and  renown  these  regions  rise,  , 
But,  ah!  one  precious  gift  high  Heav'n  denys; 


JJ4  LOW's  POEMS, 

To  make  thy  fame,  America,  complete, 

The  Muse  of  Poesy  thy  sons  should  greet; 

In  European  climes  the  Goddess  roves, 

But  shuns,  alas!  our  academic  groves; 

For  scarce  hath  Sol  perform'd  his  annual  round, 

Not  long  the  warrior  rest  from  toil  hath  found, 

Since  Death  and  Horror  hover'd  o'er  our  coasts, 

And  War's  dread  weapons  thin'd  Columbia's  hosts  5 

Whose  sad  survivors  cease  not  to  complain, — • 

The  dismal  news  of  hapless  kindred  slain, 

Still  recent  on  their  woe-worn  hearts  remain: 

At  such  a  time  the  song-inspiring  Muse 

Far  other  distant  scenes  delights  to  choose  j 

Remote  from  hence,  in  peace  and  calm  repose, 

Her  sons  she  nurtur'd — there  her  temple  rose ; 

Nor  sped  her  flight  where  Liberty  was  chain'd, 

Where  Grief,  and  Death,  and  Desolation  reign'd; 

But  now  those  dire  calamities  are  o'er, 

Oh,  may  she  visit  this  delightful  shore ! 

With  tuneful  numbers  here  her  sons  inspire, 

Plant  in  their  breasts  the 'true  poetic  fire, 

The  fire  divine,  which  lifts  th'  aspiring  thought, 

And  makes  the  soul  with  joy  celestial  fraught  I 


LOW'S  POEMS.  135 

Then  shall  they  chant  the  memorable  tale, 
How  Freedom  fought,  and  did  at  last  prevail; 
Then  shall  their  epic  strains  of  battles  sing, 
And  all  the  horrors  which  from  battles  spring: 
The  deeds  atchiev'd  by  those  heroic  bands 
Who  sav'd  their  country  from  Oppression's  hands, 
In  future  times  with  rapture  shall  be  heard, 
The  fav'rite  subject  of  the  Heav'n-taught  Bard! 

.     The  time  will  come,  soon  may  that  time  arrive, 

When  Roman  greatness  shall  in  us  revive; 

When  HOMER'S  genius  here  sublime  shall  soar, 

And  a  new  VIRGIL  grace  this  western  shore: 

Here  Science  shall  exalt  its  laurel'd  fane, 

And  over  ev'ry  State  extend  its  reign; 

Here  flourish,  unimpair'd  by  chance  or  time, 

Here  raise  its  glory  to  a  height  sublime: 

A  dome  majestic  shall  to  Fame  be  rear'd, 

By  all  aspir'd  to,  and  by  all  rever'd; 

Upon  the  lofty  summit  she  shall  stand, 

A  spectacle  august !  her  better  hand 

Th'  immortal  prize  shall  offer  to  mankind, 

For  classic  skill  and  attic  taste  design'd; 


136  LOW's  POEMS. 

The  other  hand  shall  lift  a  trumpet  high, 
Whose  son'rous  notes  shall  seem  to  rend  the  sky : 
Her  vot'ries,  filPd  with  emulation's  fire, 
To  her  rewards  shall  eagerly  aspire; 
And  he  who  merits  the  distinguish'd  prize 
Shall  gain  the  laurel  wreath  which  never  dies! 

Here  busy  Commerce  shall  successful  reign; — 
Our  navy,  like  a  bulwark  on  the  main, 
Appal  Ambition,  which  again  may  strive 
Of  native  rights  our  country  to  deprive. 
Jn  Union's  bond  these  States  shall  pow'rful  grow, 
And  frown  defiance  on  each  foreign  foe. 
While  we  such  enviable  bliss  possess, 
What  mortal  pow'r  caa  ever  make  it  less? 
Oh !  long  preserve,  kind  Heav'n,  our  prosp'rous  state, 

,  \ 

And  make  us  good,  as  well  as  wise  and  great! 


ODE 

TO 

HEAL  TH. 
Composed  in  September,  1799. 


L  ARENT  of  blessings,  life-sustaining  Health, 
Of  Hope,  and  Love,  and  Joy  benignant  queen  5 
Whose  touch  is  rapture,  whose  possession  wealth, 
Which  makes  Golconda's  sparkling  treasures  mean: 
Divine  Hygeia  !  thee  my  verse  would  praise, 
Thee,  Goddess !   whose  exhilarating  smile 
Suffus'd  thy  suppliant's  ruddy  cheek  erewhile^ 
And  promis'd,  to  thy  vot'ry  juvenile, 
Its  richest  influence  thro'  a  length  of  days; 
But,  transient  was  thy  stay,  oh,  placid  power ! 
And  thou  hast  left  me  many  a  cheerless  hour: 
Ah !  long  and  dreary  has  the  period  been, 
Since  thy  cherubic  face  I've  seen; 


138  ^     LOW'S  TOEMS. 

Yet,  well  I  know,  celestial  fair, 
Thy  light-toed  step,  thy  graceful  air; 
Thy  dimpling  smile,  thy  rosy  hue, 
Thine  eyes  of  heav'nly  azure  blue; 
Blithe  Youth  and  Love,  perennial  pair, 
And  Hope  and  Joy  play  lambent  there, 
And  Beauty  wantons  in  thine  auburn  hair. 

Yes,  well  I  know  thee,  power  benign, 
For  once  thy  life-endearing  charms  were  mine; 

Thy  faultless  shape,  oh,  lovely  maid ! 
Thy  features,  where  a  thousand  beauties  play'd, 

Could  once  give  ecstacy  intense, 
And  beam  mild  radiance  on  the  ravish'd  sense; 

But  ne'er,  since  thy  disastrous  flight, 
Hath  Joy  my  heart,  or  Beauty  bless'd  my  sight; 
Now  ever  busy  Care,  with  wrinkled  brow, 
And  lean  Solicitude,  my  peace  annoy; 
And  Discontent  is  daily  clouding  now 
The  dying  embers  of  departed  joy. 
I  loathe  the  objects  once  with  pleasure  seen, 
Alas!  I  see  them  through  a  sickly  mean; 
And  'wake  in  pain,  from  unrefreshing  sleep, 
To  sad  remembrance,  or  abstraction  deep. 


LOW's  POEMS.  »39 

With  nerves  to  trifles  "  tremblingly  alive," 

In  vain  for  wonted  cheerfulness  I  strive; 

In  vain  I  raise  these  orbs,  of  jaundic'd  hue, 

The  shadow  of  thy  much-lov'd  form  to  viewj 

In  vain  I  bend  an  ever  anxious  ear, 

The  echo  of  thy  well  known  step  to  hear: 

A  sickly  glimpse  of  thee  I  now  can  scarce  descry, 

And  Mem'ry's  magic  glass  privation  must  supply. 

Great  is  the  power  of  Mem'ry's  magic  spell; — 
Thine  aspeft,  Goddess,  I  remember  well : 

Oft  didst  thou  deign  my  youth  to  woo, 

And  in  my  path  fresh  flowers  to  strew ; 
Their  balmy  sweets  my  senses  did  inhale: 

To  thee  I  rais'd  the  grateful  song, 

While,  light  of  heart,  I  trip'd  along, 
And  melody  and  fragrance  floated  on  the  gale: 
Ere  Plicebus  ting'd  the  distant  hills  with  light, 
With  agile  step  I  brush'd  the  dew  away; 
Ere  flowers,  irriguous,  glitter'd  to  the  sight, 
I  hail'd  the  dawning  glories  of  the  day:  , 

Then  sought  my  cottage,  to  partake  the  meal 
Which  thy  heart-cheering  presence  render'd  sweetj 
Thy  presence  made  me  exquisitely  feel. 


r4o  LOW'S  POEMS. 

How  tasteful  are  the  coarsest  viands  we  eaf, 
If  thou  vouchsafe  to  bless  the  homely  board; 
Not  all  the  spicy  produft  of  the  east 

Can  furnish  such  a  grateful  feast, 

Or  such  true  luxury  afford; 
Not  Hybla's  honey  can  delight  the  taste ; 
Nor  neftar-yielding  peach,  with  blushes  grac'd; 
Nor  clust'ring  grapes,  luxuriant  from  the  vine; 
Nor  more  nutritious  cream,  delicious  fare! 
Can  please, — if  thou  art  not  an  inmate  there: 
Their  various  flavours,  precious  Health!  are  thine; 

Yes,  where  thou  art  a  genial  guest, 
Thou  giv'st  the  plain  repast  a  richer  zest, 
Infusing  strength  and  joy  in  ev'ry  rustic  breast. 

Great  is  the  power  of  Mem'ry's  magic  spell; 
I  love  of  long  departed  joys  to  tell: 
When  thy  strong  arm,  oh  Health !   the  stripling  brac'd, 
And  ev'ry  limb  with  pliant  action  grac'd, 
Oft  have  I  climb'd  the  mountain's  giddy  height, 
And,  eagle-ey'd,  beheld  thy  visage  bright; — . 

Thine  energies  before  me  went, 
And  made  me  mock  the  perilous  ascent: 

§wift  as  the  rein-deer,  was  my  flight, 


LOW'S  POEMS. 

Sublimely  bending  o'er  the  craggy  brink, 

Thy  power  forbad  th'  advent'rous  youth  to  shrink, 

Prompting  to  deeds  of  valour  and  of  might: 

Upborne  by  thee,  he  gain'd  yon  lofty  brow ; — 

Thro'  Mem'ry's  prism  I  there  behold  thee  now; 

I  know  thy  steady,  firm,  majestic  gait; 

I  see  the  mountain  nymphs  around  thee  waits 

I  see  thy  lib'ral  hand  among  them  drop 

Its  choicest  gifts,  and  now  I  hear  them  hail 

Thee  patron  of  the  forest  and  the  vale ; 

But  chief,  thee,  Goddess  of  the  mountain  top! 

Oh!  bear  my  tott'ring  steps,  Hygeia,  there; 

To  thy  lov'd  haunts,  dear  Goddess,  bear 
This  languid  frame,  and  let  that  frame,  once  more,' 

Thy  salutary  influence  share, 
And  let  my  heart  thy  healing  power  adore: 

Oh !  bear  me  from  this  "  vale,  of  tears," 

That  now  a  lazar-house  appears ; 

Where  mortals,  with  their  air,  their  food, 

Imbibe  the  plague  which  taints  their  blood, 
And  where  grim  Death  his  awful  standard  rears. 
For,  lo!  just  risen  from  his  fetid  den, 
Stalks  Pestilence,  invet'rate  foe  of  men  1 


LOW's  POEMS, 

In  his  fell  den  sepulchral  horrors  scowl, 
Cadaverous  and  ghastly  to  the  view ; 
Its  walls  drip  exhalations  dank  and  foul, 
And  baneful  hemlock's  deepest  shades  imbue 
Its  entrance  drear,  with  noxious  weeds  o'ergrovvn, 
Thro'  which  no  ray  of  healthful  light  e'er  shone; 
But  deadly  vapours  from  its  depths  aspire: — 
Oh  shield  me,  Goddess,  from  those  vapours  dire ! 
Dfead  scourge  of  human  kind !   with  giant  force 
I  see  him  tread  down  thousands  in  his  course: 
Wan  is  his  visage,  squalid  his  attire, 
With  labour  vast  his  putrid  lungs  respire; 
His  sinewy  arms  Destruction's  besom  wield; 

Protect  me,  Goddess,  with  thy  shield ! 
For  now  he  whirls  contagious  blasts  abroad; 
Tremendous  blasts!  dread  instruments  of  God! 
His  sable  wings,  o'er  guilty  nations  spread', 
Make  darkness  black,  and  baleful  influence  shed; 
His  breath  pestiferous  infefts  the  air; 
His  sanguine  eyes  like  midnight  torches  glare; 
Morbific  dews  his  livid  lips  distill, 
And  ev'ry  pore  with  subtle  poison  fill;      t 
Thro'  ev'ry  nerve  of  man  the  deadly  juices  thrill: 


LOW'S  POEMS.  143 

Around  him  hang  the  murky  fogs  of  night, 
And  shudd'ring  nature  deprecates  his  blight: — 
Shield  me,  Goddess,  from  his  sight! 

Oh !  bear  me  far  beyond  the  monster's  view  j 
I  see,  I  see  th'  envenom'd,  haggard  crew 
Of  evils  that  his  fatal  steps  pursue!  — 

Fever  first,  whose  arid  heat 

Makes  the  pulse  convulsive  beat ; 
Then  Terror,  mantled  in  Cimmerian  black, 
Aghast  advances,  dreading  to  look  l<rlck; 
With  gaping  jaws  he  comes,  and  bristling  hair, 
His  eyes,  horrific,  blast  us  with  their  stare. 
Next  Silence,  shrouded  in  profoundest  night, 
Unheard,  flits  by,  a  phantom  to  the  sight : 
Reluctant  Lassitude,  with  pallid  face, 
Now  slowly  lags  with  faint  and  feeble  pace; 
Dejefiioit)  sick  of  his  existence  grown, 

Drags  his  grief- worn  carcase  prone; 
And  Lethargy,  with  soporific  dews, 
The  life-blood  curdles,  and  each  sense  imbrues; 
Lethean  draughts  the  heavy  eyelids  steep, 
Life's  almost  stagnant  functions  sluggish  creep; 
And  Death,  with  ghastly  smiles,  the  black  procession  views, 


144  LOW's  POEMS. 

His  iron  grasp  the  stoutest  heart  appals, 
And  now  another,  yet  another  falls: 

Trembling  Age  now  drops  its  crutch — 

s 

Youth  quick  withers  at  his  touch: 

Horror  freezes  every  vein, 

To  see  the  thousands  he  hath  slain : 

Hear  the  sad  survivor's  moans ! 

Hark !  what  dismal  dying  groans ! 
Around  them  close  the  shades  of  Death's  long  night — 
Oh,  shield  me,  Goddess,  from  the  dreadful  sight! 

» 

From  this  dire  scene,  oh !  bear  me  far  away, 
To  shores  that  bask  beneath  thy  blissful  ray; 
Where  Eurus'  humid  blasts  are  never  known, 
To  chill  the  blood  and  weigh  the  spirits  downj 
But  western  gales  the  halcyon  climate  bless, 
And  breathe  in  man  the  soul  of  happiness: 
I  know  thy  haunts,  thou  soul-rejoicing  maid! 
For  hand  in  hand  with  thee  I  oft  have  stray'dj — 
Not  where  the  pamper'd,  sensual  epicure, 
.Nor  bloated  glutton,  loathsome  and  impure, 
Nor  frantic  Bacchanals  their  orgies  keep, 
That  bariish  far  thy  gentle  handmaid  Sleep, 
Dost  thou,  chaste  nymph,  delight  to  dwell; 


LOW'S  POEMS.  14$ 

Thou  flyst  their  revelry  abhor'd, 

To  seek  the  lone,  ascetic  cell, 
Or  lowly  cot,  where  Toil  and  Temp'rance  tell 
That  Peace  and  Competence  its  guests  reward. 

Thou  lov'st  the  rural,  vernal  scene, 
When  Nature  wears  her  brightest  robe  of  green; 
The  cooling  grot  thou  lov'st,  and  shady  bower, 
Where,  richly  strew 'd  around,  the  hay  just  mown, 
Blends  its  perfume  with' blossoms  newly  blown, 

f 

And  many  a  wild  and  fragrance-breathing  flower, 
That's  nurtur'd  in  the  lap  of  genial  Spring) 

And  thrives  beneath  cerulean  skies : 

/ 1 

Enchanting  scenes!  which  sweetly  realize 

What  fabling  poets  of  Arcadia  sing : — 

Ah !  thither  now,  blest  Health,  thy  suppliant  bring ! 

Yes,  all  thy  charming  haunts  I  know  and  lover 

Thro'  woodlands  thou  art  wont  to  rove, 
Where,  crown'd  with  oaken  leaves,  Sylvanus  keeps  his 
court, 

And  happy  native  Dryades  sport 
Beneath  the  /pendant  foliage  of  the  grove,  , 

For  ever  blooming,  young  and  fair: — 
Propitious  Goddess1,  now  convey  me  there j 


r46  LOW's  POEMS* 

Lay  me  on  some  moss-deck'd  seat, 
Where  limpid  streamlets  murmur  at  my  feet; 
Or,  stretch'd  incumbent  on  the  sea-beat  shore, 

Let  me  hear  th'  Atlantic  roar, 

Enjoy  the  ocean-smelling  gale, 
And  there  invigorating  breath  inhale. 
Romantic  Fancy  there,  thy  sportive  child, 
Beneath  thy  smiles,  in  youth  immortal  lives; 
There,  with  unreal  views,  and  pictures  wild, 

Beatifying  visions  gives! 
She  points  to  where  th'  aquatic  genius  dwells, 

Hears  Tritons  sound  their  dulcet  shells, 

To  Nereides  hears  them  tell  their  loves, 
Amid  their  pearly  walks  and  coral  groves. 

Awake,  oh  Health !  these  torpid  powers  of  mine, 
That  not  ev'n  Fancy's  mimic  arts  can  please; 
For 'thine  are  all  her  vivid  views,  and  thine 
Each  scenic  charm  and  image  which  she  sees. 
Nor  only  dost  thou  give  illusive  joys  like  these, — 
Where'er  thou  deignest  to  reside, 
Peace  sits  smiling  at  thy  side;/ 
Hope,  exulting,  upward  springs  j 
Love  expands  his  downy  wingsj 


••.f..  lOW's  POEMS. 

Plenty  opes  her  garners  wide; 
And  equable  Content  her  cheerful  matins  sings. 
Indulgent  Power!  again  endow, 
With  these  rich  blessings,  ail  thy  own, 
The  being  whom  thou  once  didst  crown, 
And  be  his  tutelary  angel  now : 
'Oh!  let  these  plaintive  sfrains  at  last  prevail;    * 
My  future  song  shall  then  thy  advent  hail; 
So  shall  thy  praise  be  still  my  fav'rite  theme, 
And  in  my  grateful  numbers  ever  reign  supreme. 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


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